


Wanted for Mercy

by HeadintheCloudsForever



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Minor Injuries, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 207,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadintheCloudsForever/pseuds/HeadintheCloudsForever
Summary: Remus/Tonks, AU. Tonks is sent to Azkaban Prison for a murder that she did not commit, though the evidence suggests otherwise, while Remus is left to work with a young Muggle woman named Renee to prove his wife's innocence of the crime, all the while a deranged serial killer stalks Renee to get to Tonks following her release. Remadora. RLNT. Sirius/OC. Rated T.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

The man, who went by the alias of the Morning Killer, it was not his real name, no, although he desperately wished that it were. It was simply the name he had given himself after he committed his first crime at the age of twelve when he'd killed the old couple at dawn on a Sunday morning in September. Now roughly aged forty, the Morning Killer prided himself on his abilities. A talented wizard, on the streets of Diagon Alley, or even in Hogsmeade. No one suspected a bloody thing, and he liked it.

There was only one way to describe the sun-kissed Grecian Death Eater, new to Lord Voldemort's ranks. With Lord Voldemort dead at the hands of Harry Potter, those that remained loyal to Lord Voldemort's cause were actively seeking his next replacement, a new leader, new regime change.

Where his eyes glistened the green of fresh dew glinting in the sunlight off the leaf of green emerald. His lips were pale and thin, his nose slender.

A prominent jaw curved gracefully around, and the strength of his thick neck showed in the twining cords of muscle that shaped the Death Eater's entire body. Strong arms, bold thighs and calves, a firm chest and abdomen that you could catch a glimpse of even when his form was shrouded underneath a thick black cloak, as it was right now. He was an Adonis, a Gilderoy Lockhart among men (at least before the former best-selling author went insane by means of a backfired Memory Charm and now resided in a permanent ward of St. Mungo's for Permanent Spell Damage).

One look at him if you were to pass the man by in the street, and both witch and wizard would swoon at the sight of them, no matter their sexual preference, and a single word passed from his lips had even the straightest of men flushing shades of red that no one knew was naturally possible. That's just how it was.

Legend for people like him says their hearts died in their chest cavities long ago that they putrefied and made a heavy slime about their lungs as thick as underworld tar. That is how men like The Morning Killer became killers, Death Eaters, most of them, and why they did so.

The people of the north up near Wales where he was originally from saying his emptiness is his madness, that he takes life repeatedly as if he may possess the hearts and souls, yet never so. To be healed, someone pure has to love him, or so the rumors say, to reform his heart as if it was the finest of clay, then set it to beating with pure nature's essence. Therefore, until he could find such a being to forgive all that he has done, to break the universal scales and set The Morning Killer free to begin anew, the killing goes on. And if he was being honest with himself, he liked himself this way.

He liked it a lot. The Morning Killer didn't necessarily want to change. Why should he? Why attempt to perfect what was already perfected, in his mind? The Morning Killer weighed the knife in his hand. It was no heavier than a kitchen blade but would cut on the first contact, even with minimum pressure. Its serrations were like waves, but not randomly, so like on the cheaper knives you could buy in a store. He preferred the Muggle method when it came to torturing his chosen victims.

They would slide in smoothly and do maximum damage on the way out, like the barbs on a fishing hook. At seven inches, he could easily keep it under his jacket, not his only weapon of course, but a useful backup in close combat.

For some reason, when he saw his reflection in the steel, his mind flicked to the new girl, the one younger than him by almost a decade, the pest, the bright young Auror at the Ministry of Magic who was nothing but an accursed, wretched thorn in his side. Nymphadora, her name was, he thinks. Making her hurt. Making her _bleed_.

Married to a werewolf, of all creatures, and to the best of his knowledge, sired a wolf cub son with the bastard. Remus Lupin, that was the husband's name, if what his contact within the Ministry was telling him was true, and he had no doubt to trust his loyal friend and contact, who was, at least somewhat, close with Mrs. Lupin.

The young Auror who had arrested three of his friends and made his life a living hell when she'd gone after his own son and arrested him too, on three counts of murder and sedition. He could see her bleeding already and the corners of his mouth twitched upward as he fought back a smile.

It would be simple to kill the seller too, rather than pay for such a beautiful weapon, but what if he wanted another sometime. He dug into his pocket with scarred fingers and pulled out a couple of Galleons. He did not need it all, but it never hurt to show a vendor you could become their best customer. Then the next time he called; his appointment would be all the faster. It was time to take care of this girl and her husband, the wretched werewolf.

They were getting much too close to be figuring out who he was, and he just could not risk it. No. It was the woman that irritated him the most. This girl.

Mrs. Lupin, he thought bitterly, acidic bile coating at the back of his throat at how the young Auror of the Ministry had, ever since marrying Remus Lupin and siring a half wolf-cub wretch with the man, had become something of an official advocate for better rights and living conditions for half-breeds, other werewolves. It was despicable.

Besides, those two still had to play his little game. His last little game had been fun as he strode along the busy streets, hands in his jeans pockets. He hated it so when they died too soon, but he had to punish them. They were dirty, their ways filthy and wanton.

If they refused his teachings, the Morning Killer sliced them. If they fought back, he cut even deeper, savoring their anguish in killing them slowly. He was firm and fair; they were whiny and without morals. He picked the girls for their painted lips and short skirts, he felt drawn to their high heels and long legs and pretty faces.

They made him think bad thoughts, unclean thoughts. They made him lustful and unchaste, something within himself he despised. The Morning Killer looked up at the old charming Victorian house, like something out of a magazine, as one of the witch models for _Witch Weekly_.

He had passed it every day since he had started school as a kid, prior to getting his letter to Hogwarts at age eleven, and to this day now that he was an adult, it still stood tall and proud, waiting for him. It was just like all the other houses on the street, but the front lawn weeds grew past his knees.

If there ever _was_ a path, it was gone, buried, and lost to time. The blue door had that sun-bleached look and the window frames were more bare rotting wood than white paint. He bit his lip and pondered his options.

He could go in. Or stay out here. A shiver ran through his body like an electric current and the onset of the beginning light drizzling rain blurred his vision. The man waded into the late fall greenery, forcing his legs through it.

Sucking in a breath as he knocked on the door, knowing there would be no answer. He twisted the handle. On crossing the threshold, the noise of the storm disappeared. There was a fire blazing lazily in the fireplace, sending its warmth out throughout the room, but he wasn't comforted by it.

If anything, the man felt cold. Cold and alone. He turned to leave. "Don't go," said a gentle voice. "We can be such good friends. Stay and play with me, mister. Stay. Forever and ever and ever…" The voice, whoever it belonged to, sent a chill down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up and a wicked sneer began to curl on the edges of his mouth.

The Morning Killer turned around, seeing no one, though that did not necessarily mean that someone was not there.

_Oh yes_ , he thought, kicking aside a dust bunny. _This place will do just nicely for our next game_ , _Nymphadora_. It had been too long since his last game. In addition, already, the Morning Killer was looking forward to the next. _Time to play. You won't win, Mrs. Lupin. In_ _my_ _game, you play by the house rules. In this game, my game, there_ _is_ _no way out._


	2. Chapter 2

Tiny fingers curled around Lupin's pinky. Remus wanted nothing more than to drink this moment in, with his little boy in his arms. Teddy's eyes were more brilliant than the proud new father could have dreamed they would be, his hands soft and delicate, so fragile. He felt so light, looked so perfect.

Remus was proud to call himself Teddy's father, his protector for as long as he lived on Merlin's green earth, and his love for his son and wife would last for all time. He watched the barely two-week-old peer through brand new eyes at what must be such a strange world after nine months in his mother's womb.

Teddy's legs kicked in a jagged motion, looking for that resistance they were used to, he guessed but finding nothing but air. The new father could not help but to wonder if that was unsettling or something of a relief for his son.

"It must have been cramped inside Mum, huh, Teddy? This is better, isn't?" he whispered, adjusting his swaddled son in his arms as he paced about the simple living room of their small cottage on the outskirts of Wales.

Teddy was fretting, as usual, his son was colicky, and hadn't wanted to sleep the last few hours. He couldn't smell his mother anymore and the warm arms that had held him against her breast only a few minutes ago were gone as she was forced to drag herself off of the chair she'd been resting in and shower to report for a shift at the Ministry, though Remus knew she'd much rather stay here.

He'd much rather she stays put too. He did not want his wife to go. He hated that they were summoning her back to the office, two weeks after the birth of their son.

It was too early. She—she wasn't ready to go back yet! He had balked and protested, almost _violently_ so, that she was barely two weeks past giving birth to their son, which had been a difficult ordeal and labor for her, and she was still not fully rested, though Tonks was insisting on this.

Baby Teddy kicked his legs out in search of something reassuring and instead the swaddling of his blankets gave way. Now he panicked, screaming in such a way that was heart-rendering for all within earshot.

Lupin barely stifled a smile as he heard what sounded like a loud, audible crash of something falling over in the shower and the pounding of his wife's footsteps as she practically barreled out of their bedroom and into the living room, a towel the only thing covering her modesty and still soaking wet.

"What is it, Rem? What happened? Is it Teddy? What's wrong with him?" she demanded urgently, though when she saw the way their son was kicking out in protest at his blankets coming off, and the gentle way her husband was shushing Teddy, she felt her facial muscles relax and put a hand over her already racing heart, swearing it was thrumming so loud against the confines of her chest, that she was surprised Remus couldn't hear it for himself where he stood.

"You tripped, love, at least, I think you did," he answered by way of response, smirking slightly, looking as though he was not sure whether to laugh or not and opted instead to take a seat, all the while cradling Teddy against his chest. "Teddy's just _fine_ , Dora. He didn't seem to particularly like that the blankets fell off," he joked. "He's finally asleep, so try not to wake him up."

He watched, a slightly smug expression forming on his lined features as his wife took in the sight of the proud new father cradling their two-week-old son in his arms. "I think he's taken quite a liking to me; wouldn't you say?" Remus joked, careful to keep his voice low so as to not wake Teddy.

Hoping to lighten the burden Dora carried on herself, he couldn't help but to jokingly add, "We both know little Teddy likes me better anyway, Dora," he grinned, with Tonks knowing full well he was teasing her and was promptly rewarded for his quip with a light smack on the arm and a quick kiss on his right cheek.

Tonks quirked a slightly suspicious brow at the sudden countenance in her husband, though she could detect no signs of the Wolf within coming out, though given it was day four of the fifth-day post-transformation cycle for Remus, usually, he could become quite agitated and frustrated while his senses were coming down and reverting back to normal, that did not seem to be the case here, and she was startled out of her thoughts, a soft smile on her face as she watched her husband and newborn son as he spoke, his quiet, reserved tone more subdued than usual, which she thought rather strange, and not like him at all.

_Only when something's bothering him_ , Tonks thought, troubled.

"Do you have to go? Couldn't someone else take your shift, Dora? _Don't_. Don't go out." He begged. Tonks blinked, surprised at the almost desperate tone of Remus's voice, and she let out a heavy sigh and took a moment to rest her head against Remus's shoulder and glance down at their now-sleeping son.

When she spoke, her voice was soft, and barely above a hushed whisper. "I wish that I could stay, Rem. I really do, but I can't. You know I can't, love. Moody asked specifically for me, so it's serious, Rem. I don't know why they want me when it's just clerical work, but I didn't have time to question it. Mad-Eye couldn't say much in his note. Were that I had another choice, I'd say no, but I _can't_ ," Tonks replied quietly, carefully lowering her voice to a hushed whisper so as to not wake the baby. "They think it's him. The Morning Killer. The Aurors found another body. A girl's."

Remus felt a cold chill waft down his spine at his wife's words, clenching his eyes shut and turning his head slightly to the side, sending a silent prayer to Merlin and Lily and James and anyone else in the afterlife that he knew that this could not be true.

That his wife was lying, this was just another cruel trick, a horrible prank, maybe Fred and George put her up to it, though Tonks had never once lied to him, lead him astray, had wronged him. He had thought that Tonks and the rest of the Aurors of the Ministry, not to mention the Order, would have been _done_ with this following Lord Voldemort's defeat. If only. Crime within the wizarding community had actually fallen, for a while.

Great Britain braced itself for the inevitable power struggle within the hierarchy of Lord Voldemort's ranks of stray Death Eaters, those few who had managed to evade capture by the Auror's and the rest of the Ministry. But it hadn't come. Crime had fallen in London and surrounding parts of the country, for a while. Until… _this_.

The Morning Killer. A man whom no one knew the identity of, but the man's killing spree had somehow even found its way into the Muggle world and was starting to garner attention in their newspapers and on the television.

Though Lupin could not shake the sense of dread that crept down his spine like a spider leaving a careful trail of silk.

That… 'something' was coming. Though what that 'something' might be, he could not say for certain. He furrowed his brows in a slight frown as he felt the weight on his shoulder that had nothing to do with Dora's head currently resting there, and he could not quite explain it.

Remus supposed he could, at the very least, be grateful that, following the birth of their son, Dora had accepted a new position within the Ministry of Magic in the Auror Department in an administrative role behind a desk.

Processing the arrest warrants and paperwork necessary to round up what remained of any Dark Wizards that might still be at large.

Boring work, or so Tonks claimed, though it had been her choice. She no longer wished to remain in a career where her life was constantly put at risk and in danger every waking second every time she came face-to-face with a Dark wizard. Now that she had a husband, a son, a family, Tonks knew she could not afford to be reckless, and it had been a sacrifice she was more than willing to make for the sake of Teddy and Remus, to be by their side.

And now, this _same_ job was calling her in for a late-night shift to process paperwork for a victim of a new Dark Wizard currently at large, though Remus had a feeling Moody had conveyed information that even Dora was not letting onto.

Lupin felt as though in his mind a red flag had been raised and he speculated what was the need for the urgency. No one knew the true identity of this man, whose alias was known only as of the Morning Killer, based on a family he claimed to have murdered at dawn and took pride in his work.

Remus pursed his lips into a thin rigid line, wanting to protest the minute the smell of autumn and the woods left his senses, and he realized it was his wife's shampoo, that she smelled of lavender and eucalyptus and pine wood.

Tonks heaved a heavy groan as she removed herself up from the chair, and had been about to pad barefoot towards their bathroom to dry her hair, put on respectable clothing appropriate for work, and head out, though she was halted as Lupin felt his arm not cradling Teddy against his chest shot out and catch her by her wrist before she could turn on her heel to leave. Lupin, for reasons that he could not explain, felt the feeling of dread creeping its way currently down his spine, that damned spider, intensify, and suddenly, he wanted to think of something— _anything_ —to keep her here.

Something about this entire situation felt… _off_. He didn't like this. Not one bit. What on Merlin's green earth could the Auror Department want with _his_ wife specifically, with Tonks, Moody more to the point, at…

Here, he had to glance at the clock on the wall for confirmation. Ten o'clock at night.

She worked in the administrative field of the Auror Department now. Virtually any of the other clerical workers in the entire Ministry could do this job. He felt his hackles raise and he almost allowed the Wolf within him to let out an immense growl of distrust that came from a place of nervousness. Why had they called her? What did they want with his wife? Nothing was adding up in his mind, and he did not know how exactly to formulate an apt response enough to adequately voice his concerns.

His wife furrowed her brows in contemplative thought as her husband slowly rose to his feet, careful to mind Teddy in his arms, her lips parted.

"Wait. Dora, wait. _Don't_ …" He pleaded, an almost desperate look brimming in his eyes. "Don't leave."

"Rem, what…?" she started to ask, though Lupin did not give Tonks a chance as slowly and without any kind of explanation or warning on his part, as soon as the last syllable escaped her lips, she found herself interlocked in a kiss with her husband. The tender embrace they shared made the small but intimate living room of their cottage around them disappear.

There wasn't anything else in the world except the burning flame of their love, and the love the proud new parents held for their baby. Something about this feeling made Tonks feel like, no matter what happened tonight, everything was going to be okay. That she'd be fine.

She broke it off first, albeit reluctantly, and instantly missed the spiraling heat her husband gave off, missing the feeling of his warmth.

Tonks let out a content little sigh as she rested her forehead against his, and closed her eyes, simply happy for the moment to sink into serenity with her husband and son by her side, though she knew she couldn't stay.

"Don't go," came Remus's plea again, more urgent this time, desperate. "Stay with us. Please. It's…it's too early for this. You don't have to go out."

"I _have_ to, Rem," Tonks protested, pulling back slightly to study her husband's handsome, but tired and lined face. She let out a sigh and reached up a hand to tuck back that one stubborn lock of his light brown hair flecked with gray throughout and at the front of his temples, which never ceased to fall in front of his line of sight and annoy him to no end.

Sensing that Remus was not at all convinced by her simple answer, Tonks took a moment to excuse herself, needing to get ready for her shift and as much as to give him a moment alone, and darted back into their bedroom, working quickly to dry and flat iron her simple pixie cut, a light ash brown color together flecked with red and butterscotch highlights to give her pale features some warmth and did not make her look quite so washed out.

She still favored the pinks and purples, but given the nature of her new job and her new status as a brand-new mother, these days, Tonks opted for slightly more natural colors, though on Fridays, everyone who worked in the Auror Department looked forward to seeing streaks of pink in her brown hair, the colors they were used to. Especially Kingsley.

The young witch worked quickly to apply a light, natural makeup to her face, a foundation followed by a light dusting of powder that emphasized and brought attention to her good jawline and cheekbones, a little eyeshadow and mascara, followed by a coat of clear lip gloss over her lips, dressing in a simple black long-sleeved blouse, black flared trousers and flats, wildly darting about their bedroom for her little black purse, which was resting on the coat hook on the back of the door.

By the time she re-emerged back into the living room, Remus was still looking apprehensive as she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the door. Tonks let out a tired sigh, recognizing he still needed convincing, and gave him another kiss.

"I don't know _why_ Moody asked for me, but the quicker I go, then the sooner I come home to you both," she murmured, practically whispering it into the shell of his ear, and leaning down and pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to baby Teddy's forehead, brushing back a lock of the baby's bright turquoise hair, his favorite color, out of his eyes. "I don't want to go either, Rem."

He made a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat that sounded more to Tonks like a grunt and did not immediately respond. "Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?" Remus persisted, still trying one last time, already knowing full well that she was going to go. Lupin had already seen it in Dora's gray eyes, glistening bright with a fierce determination and intrigue, that she had made up her mind and decided to go check out the crime scene before perhaps even his wife had come to the realization that she was going on her own.

Tonks bit the inside wall of her cheek in hesitation. But Merlin's Beard, she wanted to stay more than anything, though Moody's owl had been urgent and had requested specifically her, and only her to accompany him to the latest victim, the crime scene of their guy.

At least, she sincerely _hoped_ it was their guy. Otherwise, the Aurors were chasing down dead leads and had been for the better part of a month.

"I have to go, Rem," she whispered, surprised at hearing how soft her voice had gotten, and she suspected it had nothing to do with wanting to wake Teddy. "If I don't go now, then he's just going to make me come out with him and take a look at it some other time, and the next time he sends us a letter, it's going to be a _Howler_ , and I'd really rather _not_ , yes?"

_That_ did it. Lupin's eyes widened and for just a brief moment, a flicker of anger darted across Remus's light brown eyes at the thought of a Howler screaming bloody murder in their cottage and waking Teddy. "Point taken, but I still don't like this, Dora. It doesn't feel right, I...I can't explain it. Just...be safe," he sighed, though her husband still did not sound happy about it, and he reluctantly stood back as Tonks flung open the door to their simple cottage and she called back over her shoulder.

"I won't be long, I promise, Rem!" Tonks grinned, turning at the waist slightly to regard her husband as he stood on the front porch, watching her walk down the front porch steps. "Don't wait up for me, love! I might be late!"

Remus furrowed his brows into a frown, his gaze shifting only once to regard Teddy as the newborn baby cooed slightly in his sleep until he heard the familiar loud, resonating _crack_! as Dora turned on the heel of her shoe and Disapparated once she'd reached a relatively safe distance. Lupin flinched, hoping the noise hadn't woken their son, but when he glanced at Teddy in his arms, shifting him slightly to better support his head, the baby was fast asleep.

When his wife was gone, Lupin all but stood there rooted to the front porch for a split second, bracing himself against the waves of uncertainty that rocked him to his core as he stared after the space where just a second ago his wife had stood. He could not explain it, but he could not shake the feeling of dread from his senses, as though by allowing Dora to go and not pleading a stronger case that she stay home tonight, that something was bound to happen.

After a moment of contemplative silence, he shifted baby Teddy in his arms and rubbed his face in minor frustration. He decided there was nothing he could do but put Teddy down in his crib and maybe spend an evening reading a book while he waited.

Dora had been wrong about one thing. Remus would wait up for Tonks because he did not think he could allow himself to fall asleep so easily knowing that his wife was potentially putting herself in harm's way. No. He was not going to retire for the night until his wife was safe and sound asleep in his arms, where Dora rightfully belonged. Lupin heaved an exasperated sigh and made to go inside when he heard the unmistakable _crack_! again of someone Apparating near their front entrance.

Remus paused, turning around to see Tonks practically bound forward up the stairs to rush over to where he stood on the porch with their infant son, fling her arms around his neck and plant the forgotten goodbye kiss on his lips, and one for baby Teddy on his forehead, before darting back, this time for real.

* * *

Thunder cried out from the blackened sky of the outskirts of downtown London, the clouds practically invisible above. Twenty-six-year-old Renee Barreau shuddered, her teeth grinding shut in anticipation. A boom like that meant the heavens were about to let down a deluge, and she had nowhere to hide.

The young blonde ducked with each thunderous boom. She knew it was silly and childish, but the young co-manager of the Broken Spoon Café by the train station couldn't help it. It was just the same as when her kid brother Billy flicked a damn towel in her face and laughed every time Renee, acting as his official guardian since both of their parents had died in a car crash, blinked.

It sounded like a mountainous rock was about to roll her flat. Maybe if it were just the sound alone, she would adjust, but the cold rain and flashing forks of lightning kept the young waitress stuck in adrenaline mode as she waited.

She was waiting for the train, which was strangely behind schedule. Renee heaved a groan of exasperation and dug into the main compartment of her purse slung around her shoulder and dipped into it to pull out her cell phone, which she'd kept mostly on silent for the duration of her shift, save for twice to call their Aunt Janice, who wasn't technically their aunt by blood, but rather, their next-door neighbor in the flat complex Renee lived in with Billy, and acted as something of a mother figure in the areas where Renee fell short and didn't hesitate to babysit Billy whenever Renee had to work late at the restaurant.

Tonight was one such night, and Renee furrowed her brows in a frown as she checked the icons on her phone. No voicemails or anything, so that must mean there were no emergencies and Billy was behaving himself.

Emanating a tense exhale of relief through her nose, Renee shook her head and plunked her cell back into her phone and zipped her bag back up.

_You're being paranoid, stop this, Renee_ , she scolded, giving her head a little shake to clear it as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, bringing her brows together and her cobalt blue eyes lifted to regard her pale, ashen face.

The restaurant manager of the tiny café that was more of a train stop than an actual honest-to-God sit-down restaurant, though they served coffee and pastries, could not quite see the laughter in her bright sky blue eyes the color of a robin's egg, or her trademark bright white smile twitching at her pink lips.

Instead, the young blonde appeared skeletal and quite deranged from the end of a long shift of standing around on her feet for a twelve-hour shift.

Her sockets lay as inky pools and her high cheekbones held a gaunt, almost sunken-in look that almost made her look…haunted, like…like she was transforming into something _wicked_. She looked like she was about to be sick.

Renee's blue denim half-bib apron had smudges of egg and a coffee stain here and there, though the rest of her outfit was neat enough. Her mum used to always say that was the mark of a wonderful chef. Messy apron, clean everywhere else. Her short-sleeved black V-neck t-shirt wasn't enough to defend against the chill of the surprisingly spring April breeze, and she shrugged further into her black leather jacket for warmth against the bitterly cold breeze.

She shuddered again and raked her fingers through her light blonde pixie cut that framed her oval face, high cheekbones, and good jawline that got her a lot of attention from the male customers that came into the café for a pick-me-up, her fingers coming away slightly sticky, and she winced as she shook her head and out fell a few speckles of flour from earlier when she'd been helping one of the girls finish up the next day's loaves of bread and muffins in the back kitchens.

None of this changed the fact that Renee Barreau looked quite deranged.

_Or already dead_ , her conscience offered in its twisted, teasing voice.

"Shut the hell up, Jiminy Cricket. Did I _ask_ you for your input here?" the young blonde groaned in an exasperated sigh, shuddering as a tremor went down her spine. Renee's gaze drifted away from her reflection and to the newspapers in the kiosk that was near a phone booth and an old ATM.

"Ugh. That's so disgusting," she snapped, talking mostly to herself as her inquisitive sharp blue eyes burning bright with anger at the images she could not seem to tear her gaze away from as the young blonde woman scanned the headlines of today's edition of the newspaper.

It was all over the news, some creepy, psycho sadistic, real piece of work bastard calling himself The Morning Killer who'd developed a fondness for stalking and kidnapping and killing people. He tended to prefer young women, though his madness held no method. The Morning Killer had gone after men and teenagers too, though never under the age of thirteen. He took all kinds. Different races and different ages, from different parts of London. "What fat lot of good that does the cops."

The creep's string of unsolved murders was becoming closer and closer together and the local news channels were covering the guy's latest victim in almost graphic, excruciating detail, and the cops couldn't understand how he was killing him. Whoever was doing it left no physical signs of damage.

They hadn't been tortured, raped, or mutilated. No. The only thing each victim had in common was the sheer expression of terror in their wide, unblinking eyes whenever the cops did manage to find a body, which pretty much only confirmed the theory that somehow, the murderer was… _scaring_ his victims to death. Renee almost snorted and rolled her eyes at that.

To her, in her mind, it did not matter _how_ they died, but rather, that someone was killing them in the _first_ place was reason enough for them to act. Or _should_ act. If they could find him. Renee had a different name for the Morning Killer, given how the cops had been on his trail for months always came up short. She'd taken to calling him 'The Phantom.' A poor name, but she could think of no other description!

The man seemed to have no morals, no sense of right and wrong for his actions, or otherwise, he wouldn't be killing. Everyone was on edge—the murders were all anybody at the café wanted to talk about whenever they came in through the doors, and Renee hated it.

Especially the part where the Morning Killer tended to favor young women. Just that thought alone was enough to send a cold wash of fear down her spine and she shrugged even further into her black leather jacket to stay warm.

Here this serial killer was, no known identify other than his alias by the authorities kidnapping and taking young women to do God only knew what with them, his string of murders had gone unsolved for the last two months.

And she was out here _alone_ , going on almost ten-fifteen at night. Waiting.

Just standing here by the railroad tracks, no other people in sight waiting for the late-night train that she could see made Renee's breathing rapid and shallow. She could feel her pulse pounding within her front temples. Tersely, her blue eyes flickered to the café just behind her that just ten minutes ago had been a hum of excitement and exhilaration, but now looked withered with age.

_Don't be thickheaded, Renee_ , she scolded herself. _You were the last one to lock up and you've got the café's keys in your purse to freaking prove it. There's no one else out here but you. You're paranoid. Get over this, damn it_.

Renee was in the middle of ruminating over why she thought the Morning Killer was the way that he was, why he seemed to take pride in ending a human life when she let out a startled scream as a high-pitched chirping noise erupted somewhere deep within the depths of Renee's purse.

She very nearly screamed, clutching at a fistful of her shirt, a hand over her racing heart and would have felt like a bloody fool if she had, as there was no one else here. Renee swore internally and ground her teeth in annoyance as she rummaged through her little black bag in an effort to find her phone, having to search through all the multi zippered pockets and hidden little compartments until she found the damned bloody thing.

Renee's already weighty frown deepened as she hit the ' **PLAY'** button on her phone's voicemail and pressed her phone to her ear, feeling her lips curve downward and into a sneer as the pleading tones of her boyfriend, well _ex_ - _boyfriend_ , John, filled her eardrums, practically begging her to take him back.

_"C'mon, Ren, baby. Answer the goddamned phone. I know you got this. Call me. I just wanna talk. I—I miss you, Little Mouse. I want you back. I…I love you, baby."_ Hearing his nickname for her coming from his lips made Renee's frown deepen.

"No _way_ , John. You really must think I'm _stupid_ , don't you?" she growled

Renee hit the delete button and plunked her phone back into her purse. Their breakup had been something of a hot mess two weeks ago after she'd caught the lawyer with another woman. He had, ever since their disastrous breakup, which had resulted in a huge shouting match and a wine bottle opener being driven through the palm of his hand by Renee when John attempted to get physically violent and assertive with her, had been trying (and failing) to win back her affections.

But she would never go back to John again if she had her say. The wine bottle opener through his hand that had required a dozen stitches at the hospital, thanks to Renee, had been the proverbial nail in the coffin, the end of their relationship. Renee supposed she should just be lucky John hadn't wanted to press charges for that little incident.

"You and I, we're _through_ , John. Don't call me ever again, you _pig_ ," she hissed, though she knew that her ex-boyfriend could not hear her steady stream of dark thoughts through gritted teeth, as visions of a gruesome fate wished upon John darted through her subconsciousness. No sooner had the words left her lips than did Renee catch sight of her reflection, this time, in the café's front window while she waited for the train that she already knew she'd missed, and the young blonde froze.

For a moment, Renee was quite surprised at how cross she looked. Renee had thrown out her hip, as she tended to do whenever she was cross or annoyed with something that pissed her off, jutting it to the side as she shifted her little black purse to her other shoulder to ease the stiffness and ache in her left arm.

The young restaurant manager huffed in frustration and didn't even have to glance at the clock behind her to know the train was fifteen minutes late.

"Screw this. I'm not gonna stick around here and wait for this damn train anymore," she growled. "I'll walk to the corner of 10th and Main and take a cab home then. It beats sitting around waiting in the cold freezing my ass off like this. Bet Billy's burned down our flat by now by the time that I get back home," she grumbled disgruntledly, turning away on her heels to leave, shoving her white-bone knuckled fists into the pockets of her jacket to keep warm.

The young blonde was so engrossed and hellbent on getting out of the London Underground and out into the open, public streets of the real world that she did not notice a shrouded figure in the shadows watching her leave.

* * *

The Morning Killer was watching the young blonde Muggle woman, her back turned towards him, from outside a coffee shop. Her coffee shop, in fact.

He'd been following this little dove for quite a while now, knew her routines, where she walked, what she drank in the mornings to get her day started (coffee, black, followed by a sesame bagel with chive and onion cream cheese) thinking her tiny, waiflike frame, blonde hair, and elfin features made her the ideal next plaything. His expression was one of being forced to endure an unpleasant odor.

The Morning Killer's cold gaze was unwavering and unabashed. His glistening green eyes did not travel up to her pale face or to her black slip-on sneakers with no laces, but they followed the young woman as if really focusing on something a couple of feet further away. Perhaps his naturally introspective nature led him to be locked in thought as he observed his target, it was hard to know.

But as he rose from his seat and began following the young blonde café manager at a safe distance, he offered the girl no gesture of recognition, though he knew this one quite well by now. Merlin's Beard, but she had even served him coffee this morning and chatted with him about his own work, not even know she was staring face-to-face with the man himself.

The Muggle restaurant manager thought he was a man with no morals, no code of honor. But she was _wrong_. And because she was wrong in her initial assessment of him, the Morning Killer had decided that she was Merlin's Favorite, and _she_ was next.

The Morning Killer let out a sharp breath of cool spring night air that pained his lungs as she almost— _almost_ —brushed against his shoulder and he offered her no stiff nod as the girl quickened her pace to the street corner and melted into the downtown London crowds.

She wouldn't be hailing one of those Muggle carriages, they called them cars, anytime soon. Not tonight. _Or any other night_ , he thought, stifling a low growl and upon seeing where she was heading, turned on the heel of his black boot and Disapparated with a loud _crack_ , not even caring if any Muggles in the nearby vicinity saw.


	3. Chapter 3

The alleyway was the _last_ place that Renee wanted to walk down, but it was the quickest route to get to the corner of the 10th and Main, where she could call a cab to head for home and pray that Billy hadn't demolished their flat. The faint evening glow diminished as darkness consumed the streets of London as the thunder rolled above. The air grew colder and the chill that traveled down Renee's spine worsened.

She walked alongside the cobblestoned sidewalk, shuffling the fallen leaves with every disgruntled step she took. It was way too late for her as a young woman to be out alone in this part of London and way too dangerous with a deranged serial killer on the loose.

When she reached Echo Alley, Renee paused, biting the inside wall of her cheek. The alley was named from the rumor of being able to hear the lost souls of the past cry out in pain. It was also the last place the Morning Killer's latest victim, a girl, was seen.

She looked down the stretch of the alley as a wash of cold surged through her entire body. Oh, Renee knew full bloody well she should run in the other damn direction.

Go _anywhere_ , just _go_ , leave this place and take the bus or something instead of a cab, but the temptation of feeding her morbid curiosity was just way too hard to resist. The flickering streetlight beside her shattered and a single scream, a young woman's, ripped from the other side, and Renee shivered.

"Shit," she whisper hissed through gritted teeth. "Ugh. Why _me_?" She dipped into her purse to pull out her phone to call the cops, and when the noise came again, The young blonde made to turn on the heel of her shoe and bolt, though the scream came again, and against her better judgment, she turned back around and ran for the source of the noise.

"Damn it!" she growled. "I really _am_ a stupid woman! I can't believe I'm really even _thinking_ of doing this! _Shit_!" she growled through gritted teeth, thinking that she was putting herself at risk like this by possibly running straight into the path of a murderer just to save a woman she didn't even know, knowing that the cops wouldn't get here in time to probably save her life.

Renee froze as the sound of someone coughing to clear her throat reached her eardrums, and when the person behind her spoke, it chilled her blood. "Hey, Ren."

_John_. _Oh, damn, oh, God, why the hell right now_ , she thought through clenched teeth and slowly turned around to face her ex-boyfriend.

She hated that, even after all this time, the man who was kind of a dead ringer for that American actor Joaquin Phoenix in his younger days could still pretty much make her weak at the knees. Renee felt a muscle in her jaw involuntarily twitch as her blue eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at her ex-boyfriend, taking a second to resist the urge to spit in his face.

Lawyer John Newall had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks, and he knew it too. Renee guessed after a while he had gotten used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked her way, followed by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak little smile.

It didn't help that he was so damn modest about it, it made the women in the city fall for him that much more, and Renee hated it had worked on her, too. John had tousled dark hair, thick and lustrous. His eyes a mesmerizing deep blue with flecks of silver.

His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite-like God Himself had crafted John as a baby. John Newall had dark eyebrows, which were currently sloping downwards in a serious expression as he glared at his ex-girlfriend. She winced. He was so quiet; Renee hadn't even heard John sneak up behind her.

The fact that he currently towered over Renee and made her feel dwarfed did not quell the nervousness hammering away in her heart or the uncomfortable pit forming in her stomach. Renee swallowed past the hard lump forming in her throat that felt like it was constricting in on itself.

"Go _away_ , John," Renee snapped, curling her fingers into a protective fist over the strap of her black purse. "I thought I told you not to call or come see me again. You're into stalking now, huh? Is that your little game this time? Is that—that _bitch_ still with you?" she hissed, referring to the girl she'd caught him flirting up a storm with, and the fact that he'd kissed her hadn't gone unnoticed.

She felt the familiar hot spark of anger well within the pit of her stomach as she shoved past John, her shoulder jabbing against his side as she struggled to move past the lawyer and former football player though with great difficulty.

"Get out of here, John or your ass is _grass_ and I'm the lawnmower. You don't quit following me and I'm going to call the cops, get a restraining order. Get out of my way…" Renee scoffed and rolled her eyes, feeling the fear travel in her veins, but never made it to her facial muscles or skin.

Her complexion remained pale and matte, her eyes as steady as if she were shopping for a new pair of shoes. She let out a sigh and turned to leave, showing John Newall she wasn't afraid to turn her back on him, when John's desperate, pleading voice rent the air, and startled her, causing the hairs on her neck to bristle.

"Wait!" he called after her, grabbing her by the wrist, yanking the young blonde back towards him, a little rougher than Renee thought was necessary. "Don't go. I was hoping you and I could talk. I want you back, baby. I—I was wrong to treat you like that, Ren. Stay with me."

"N— _stay_ with you?!" Renee shouted, blinking owlishly in surprise. " _Why_ would I stay with you, John, look at us, we're already fighting! No _way_ , Newall," she snarled through gritted teeth. "I'm going home. See you."

"No, I don't think so, Ren," growled John, scowling, his dark brows knitted together angrily as he looked down at her. "You're kidding me, right? You gotta be joking…You can't just _leave_ me, sweetheart!"

Renee stifled her scream of frustration and stomped her foot, a release of frustration. "Nope. I'm _really_ not joking with you, Newall. I'm heading home, and you're standing in my way, so kindly please, move, John…"

She grunted as she made to move past John, but his grip on her arm tightened as he squeezed it even harder, eliciting just the tiniest cry of pain from Renee, which in turn he responded to with a low threatening growl.

" _Good_ ," he growled angrily, his dark eyes narrowing as he fixed Renee with an icy stare. "You _should_ be scared. You screwed up bad, sweetheart. By dumping me. Think of this little meeting as your own chance to make things right, baby. I'm giving you the opportunity of a lifetime to admit that you were wrong, and you're never going to date any other guys but for me. _Are_ you?" he snarled, his jaw tensing and locking up in rage.

When Renee's only response was a weak little whimper that was barely audible, he growled in frustration and cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head upwards and to the right, forcing Renee to meet his fuming gaze. " _Are you_?" he repeated angrily, his words escaping his lips as more of a hiss, more spat than spoken to her.

He was really starting to piss her off at this point, but whatever Renee had done to John was ticking him too, judging by how hard he was clinging onto her arm in a vice grip and the hardened edges in his smooth tone like butter.

"N—no," Renee whispered in defeat, blinking back tears, trying her hardest not to let them spill down her cheeks. "J—John, please don't do this. I—it's not too late for you. Fine. Y—you want me back, then I'm back, but…don't do this to me." Poor Renee let out a groan as the lawyer's grip on her chin tightened even harder at her words. "John…" But her voice trailed off and she did not bother to complete her sentence. It was pretty much useless. He wasn't going to listen to her.

John glowered at her, showing no signs of relinquishing his grip upon her chin.

"You can't just _leave_ me all alone like that, baby girl. What about the last two weeks, baby? They happened. Huh? You can't just take that away. Do you think it's some kind of sick joke, babe? You think I'm _stupid_ , is that it, Barreau? Leading guys on for no good reason at all just so you can break their hearts later?" Renee felt her blue eyes widen incredulously as she had to crane her neck upwards to look the lawyer in the eyes.

"Uh, _excuse_ _me_?" she demanded hotly, her free hand still curled onto her black purse strap, totally ready to use it as a weapon if need be. " _You_ were all over _me_ , John!" she countered defensively, yanking her arm out of her ex-boyfriend's grip, and shoving her hands against his chest, trying to send him sprawling back.

The young woman shrugged her shoulders in what she hoped was a nonchalant gesture, and her blue eyes drifted downwards towards his still-bandaged hand, and she barely was able to manage to stop the triumphant smirk from forming. "Are you crazy?" John growled as he grabbed onto Renee's arm again. "Stop. Moving."

Renee flinched as the lawyer pulled her back a second time by her arm. She was sadly kind of used to this by this point. People asking her if she was crazy, given that her parents had pretty much up and not given a shit about her and Billy, even when they were alive.

So, when she'd met John during her first semester of university, she had hoped, _prayed_ , that things would change. And now, he'd proved to her that he was just like everyone else, and here he stood calling her crazy, just like everyone else. John wasn't the first to call her nuts and he probably wouldn't even be the last.

Everybody at her job where she worked called her insane, for her love of writing stories, and occasionally her manager would yell at her for jotting down story ideas on the backs of the guest checks and then her scatterbrain would forget about them, and sometimes the customers asked questions.

She just wanted to go home and read her new book, where she knew no one would judge her there. At least the characters in books never questioned you or your life decisions. Renee blinked, her mind returning her to the present, and immediately she wished that it hadn't. She felt a horrible tight pressure on her arm, and all it took was one glance downward to realize that John Newall still had a vice grip on her arm and showed no sign of letting go.

"Let _go_ of me, John!" Renee demanded through gritted teeth, struggling to pull her arm out of his grip, digging her heels into the sidewalk's pavement and resisting John, though she knew her efforts were pretty much useless.

"Nuh-uh, Barreau. We're not done talking yet," he growled as he grabbed her by her arm and dragged her back towards the side of the building.

" **JOHN**!" Renee bellowed at the top of her lungs, with all the strength she could muster in the vain hopes that someone— _anyone_ —would hear the desperation in her voice and come help her. No doubt he was still royally pissed at her for the whole corkscrew through his hand bit, but John had started it by trying to strangle Renee.

He'd left her with no choice but to defend herself, and she'd do it again in a heartbeat if forced to. She swallowed nervously and continued to struggle against being dragged into the alleyway and subjected to John's torturings. If she allowed herself to be taken back there, John would be able to do whatever he wanted to Renee.

"L—let go of me, you—you _horse's_ _ass_!" she bellowed through gritted teeth, grunting and struggling with the effort to free herself, though if anything, her trying to fight against him only further fueled his wrath, and his grip upon her arm tightened even harder, and she muffled a fearful whimper as it was hard enough to break her arm.

"Don't think so, babe," John hollered back over his shoulder, seemingly not caring how much of a fuss she made. "This is for your own good, sweetheart. You know I wouldn't act so damned crazy if I didn't love you so much. You can't just lead people on like you did to me and just walk the hell away like it meant nothing to you."

"Let _go_ of me!" Renee growled, feeling a sheen of cold sweat begin to form across her brow. "J—John, please," she begged. "D—don't do this. I—if there's any decency left in you, Newall. Please. Just let me go, man."

John smirked and threw back his head and laughed. Once, his laughter had sent a shiver of delight down her spine, but right now in this current moment, it sounded more like the bark of a dog and sounded cold, unforgiving. "You come on real strong to a guy, sweetheart. You can't just do that and walk away from it." His piece said, he gave another hard yank and violently tugged her forward. Renee swallowed. John Newall was literally dragging her into an alleyway at this point.

She shook her head and tried to ignore the insurmountable panic welling its way from deep within the pit that had formed in her stomach and crept its way up into her throat in the form of bile. "Get off of me, John!"

Renee shoved her free hand not curled around the strap of her purse against the lawyer's burly chest until he grabbed her forearm in his tight fist and held it down.

"Stop. Fighting. Me." He commanded, slowly, his voice going dangerously soft and quiet. His grip tightened around her arms and she let out a whimper. "You want this."

'N—no," Renee whispered, hating hearing the dip and crack in her voice as she vehemently shook her head back and forth, trying to silently plead with her ex to let her go. No. No, she most certainly did **NOT** want this.

Renee winced as she tugged pitifully against John's strong grip in a vain effort to free herself from his clutches, which only resulted in John's calloused, rough hands strengthening his hold on the young blonde woman's forearm. He shoved her forward violently into the alleyway, glancing above his head once as the streetlight above their heads flickered once, twice, and then cut out. Renee let out a tiny moan.

"Get the hell _off_ of me, Newall!" She swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat and blinked back briny, salty tears. Renee felt her lips part open slightly, straining her vocals, attempting to make a sound, but nothing came out. Still, she silently screamed, hoping someone would hear her.

Suddenly, her body wracked with fear and she shook like a leaf. Fright consumed every cell in her body, swelling them with terror.

With every second that John held her captive in this damn deserted alleyway, Renee could swear she felt the rise of her blood pressure, but she knew this was the least of her worries. Her greatest threat was currently giving her a murderous death glare, standing in front of her.

"Get _off_ of me, John!" she snarled, resisting the urge to spit in the handsome lawyer's face, though her desire was currently reaching its limit. She wasn't entirely sure how much longer she could hold out for help to arrive.

"No. You were _begging_ for it the other weekend, you think I'd waste an opportunity like this to catch you all be yourself, Little Mouse," John snorted as he shoved Renee roughly against the wall, ignoring her pained gasp of surprise as they both heard a muscle in her back pull, the cracking sound unmistakable. "You're a tease, Ren. Little Miss Renee," he taunted, reaching up a finger to absentmindedly stroke her cheek. "You owe me, Renee."

"J—just…let me go, please, John," Renee begged, biting the inside of her cheek, and trying not to cry. "I—I promise, I—if you let me go now, I won't call the police. I won't press charges against you. Let me go, Newall."

"Shut up, bitch. I'm not done with you yet. We're _done_ when I _say_ I'm done," John disagreed angrily. "C'mon, baby," he crooned throatily, one of his hands drifting to the back of her blonde pixie cut and finding purchase in her blonde tresses, pressing in softly.

Renee hissed as he closed off the gap of space between the two of them, and now he was close enough for him to kiss her.

"You _know_ you want this. You've missed me, as much as I missed you," he sighed, the pads of his thumbs almost tenderly caressing her cheek, and she felt incredibly violated.

Violated, revolted, terrified out of her mind. Renee clenched her eyes shut and turned her head to the right, not wanting to look into John's eyes and see his eyes light up with power and lust, knowing that he had won again.

"How about _this_ , dollface," John suggested, his eyes alighting and glistening, as though he'd just gotten a brilliant idea. "You're gonna want to go along with this next part, darling, or I'm going to have no choice but to hurt you," John warned Renee, putting his palm flat against Renee's left shoulder, and shoving her to her knees.

" _John_!" she yelled, biting down on her bottom lip in anguish, though he continued speaking as though she had not attempted to interrupt him. " **LET** **GO**!"

The lawyer furrowed his brows in a frown. "If you kick me or try to hurt me in any way, I'm gonna snap your delicate little wrist. And if you bite me, or try to scream, let anybody know we're back here, this is gonna get a whole lot worse for you. I don't want to hurt you, Ren. But I will if you make me."

Renee shivered, though she felt a strange new sense of adrenaline course through her veins. Threats or not, she wasn't about to let herself go through this in some back alleyway.

" **LET GO OF ME, JOHN**!" she screamed, wildly thrashing against the lawyer as his hands came to grip almost painfully tight on her waist, just above the hemline of her black jeans. "Let _go_ , you sick _pervert_!"

With John holding her arms hostage at her side, so she couldn't hit him, she only had her legs to work with. well, it would have to do, and it was certainly better than the alternative of letting John rape her in the alley like this.

Exhaling a shaking breath through her nose, she stomped down as hard as she could onto John's sneaker, which caused him to cry out in surprise and take a couple of steps backward, which was what she had been banking on.

This movement by him gave the young blonde just enough room to bring her knee up to his groin, hitting her ex-boyfriend where she knew it would hit him the worst. He let out an agonized roar and straightened up, raking his hands through his tuft of dark hair, flickers of rage passing through his handsome face, and his eyes.

"I was trying to help you, you little _bitch_!" John shouted, his face turning beet red the more upset he got. "I was planning on giving you the opportunity to come back to me the easy way with me not hurting you, but now, you're gonna give me no choice. You changing your mind and dumping me was a bunch of crap, Barreau!"

" **LET GO**!" Renee screamed, close to hysterics at this point. " _Somebody_!" she shouted helplessly. " _Please_!" she begged, very close to tears right about now.

" _Stop_. _Moving_ ," John growled as he seized a fistful of her hair and tugged it painfully back, so he was exposing the pale column of Renee's throat. Renee let out a pained whimper and tried to force her body to relax. Though every single one of her instincts told her to fight back or try to flee. John, given how much he worked out, was way too strong for her to even think about having a fighting chance of overpowering, and she felt like she was slowly being sapped of all her strength.

Renee groaned as she realized she would have no other choice but to do what John Newall told her to do. But that didn't mean she had to like it. She continued her violent trembling and gasped for air that simply was just not coming to her lungs. God, she felt so _sick_. Tired. Nauseous…

Renee swallowed nervously. Her throat felt dry, and she licked her lips hoping to moisten them and wet her mouth, though it did her no good.

_Just freaking great_. If she had no voice, then she wasn't going to be able to call for help. She was going to have to suffer through whatever horrors John was about to put her through, but hopefully, if she just…took her mind away somewhere else and played along, then it would all be over soon and he'd let her go, and she could make it out of this nightmare alive. Her lungs felt like they were drastically overworked.

A horrible, tingling, warm numbness began to spread from the tips of her toes in her sandals all the way up to her head as she felt John's hand come to her chest, where he fondled her right breast, the other pressing against the back of her hair, preventing her from making a run for it. Damn, she'd never felt so terrified in her entire life than now. Not even the incident with the wine bottle opener through his hand had left Renee feeling this helpless…

She choked out a pained, frightened sob and clenched her eyes shut. If John hadn't already been maintaining a tight grip on both of her shoulders to steady herself, then she would have fallen into the street and passed out. Renee felt so defeated, and so, so incredibly stupid.

Renee should have _never_ walked out alone after dark like this, that's what she got for missing the damn train, but in fairness, nor could she have predicted that her ex-boyfriend would stalk her and find a way to corner her. She had cared so much about getting home on time that she'd stupidly forsaken safety. Her decision was certainly coming back to haunt her now. No one was coming to save Renee from John.

Renee was on her own. Or so she thought, until a new voice behind her spoke up, a woman's voice, startling both of them.

"Say one more _word_ ," this new She-Stranger growled, her voice cold and flat, "One more _move_ towards this young lady, and I would do you the kindness of removing your _head_ , John Newall, or do you prefer I call you by your other name? _Morning_ _Killer_. You're under arrest for the murder of over a dozen young men and women in the last six months, eight charges of kidnapping and sedition, and you have the right to remain silent, and I _really_ suggest you use that right before I do us all the kindness of engorging your _tongue_ and watching you choke to death on your own fluids. It's no more than a creep like you deserves," the woman spat, disgusted.

Renee's blue eyes widened in shock and disbelief, feeling her face drain of color as she slowly swiveled around to regard this sudden new arrival, to tell her that she was crazy if she was a cop, she had the wrong guy, and let out a muffled squeak of terror as she looked at the new arrival.

A young woman, not much older than her, maybe by five years or so, if Renee had to guess, with short light brown hair streaked with highlights, was standing directly in front of John, something long and slender pressed into the small of his back. She couldn't quite be sure, but it looked like a knife, but...where was the metal?

It was a strange-looking knife, one that appeared to be made entirely of wood. Renee wasn't sure she'd ever seen something quite like it before.

Renee furrowed her brows into a frown. "Oh, thank _God_ ," she began hesitantly, raising her hands in self-defense and surrender, showing the young woman she meant no harm. "Lady, if you're a cop, I need a restraining order against this man!" she breathed, turning back to John and frowned, her mind thinking over the young woman's words. "B..but..." Her voice trailed off as her mind felt like it was reeling, as she thought of the woman's words.

_He's not who you think he is_. And she had called John...the Morning Killer? _Wait_. _THE Morning Killer_?!

Renee blinked owlishly at the young woman, who still kept that strange wooden knife pointed at the small of John's back, daring the lawyer to make so much as a twitch. He remained for his part, unstirred. She felt _certain_ she must have misheard. There was a distance in Renee's eyes as she promptly took a few steps backward, bumping into the brick wall of the alleyway like she wasn't expecting it. Her head rolled with the impact, eyes glazed. Her voice came out thin and distant.

"What, but, no, it didn't, that's... not... right..." Renee felt herself breathing all wrong, beginning to gasp like there's not enough oxygen in the air. "Ah, I...I'm sure there must be a mistake, my...my ex isn't..no, that's...that's not right," she stammered, struggling to find her voice as it felt like her throat hollowed and constricted.

The young woman must have sensed what she was thinking, for she offered Renee something akin to a sympathetic smile, though it did not quite reach her gray eyes.

"I'm sorry," she began, sounding sympathetic, her voice pained. "I understand how difficult this is for you. But I am afraid your boyfriend is not who you think is he is, Miss...?" Her voice trailed off, and Renee heard John flinch slightly in response as the female cop dug the tip of her strange knife into the small of the lawyer's back.

"Renee," the young blonde answered immediately by way of response. "Renee Barreau."

"Renee, then. My name is Tonks, and if you don't mind, I'd like to ask your...boyfriend, here a few questions," the She-Stranger answered, and just her name made Renee furrow her brows in contemplative thought.

_Must be foreign_. Though she had no time to ponder the strange woman's name as another voice rent the otherwise silent air. It sounded like the same terrified scream of that girl's from earlier that she'd darted down this cesspool of an alleyway in the first place. Renee's blood chilled inside her veins and she froze as a shadowy figure seemed to appear out of nowhere, and was shambling towards them, the person's silhouette having an odd gait, as though whoever it was could barely walk.

When the young woman, a girl not much older than fifteen or sixteen, stepped out of the darkness of the alley, Renee felt her heart sink to the pit of her churning stomach and could see what her ears were telling her already. This girl, the Morning Killer's latest victim, was still alive, by some miracle of God, and was limping, the gait that was smooth only this morning was faltering and uneven.

Her ponytail was ragged, loose hair falling over her features that contorted with effort. On her feet were only socks and her eyes were as they had been years ago when she knew her beloved Grandmother was no longer in this world. Renee dropped her purse with a clatter on the already cracked concrete and with only a fraction of a second hesitation, she ran over to her, careful not to tread on her feet with her heavy black boots.

Silently, she tumbled, giving Renee barely enough time to shoot out her callused hands that were still covered in traces of flour, and now she supposed they were covered in this young woman's blood. Even then her dead weight was almost too much to prevent the momentum taking her to the ground.

Even in the twilight, the gushing blood glinted red under the street-lamps. Though the appearance was Halloween-ish the smell wasn't and neither was the effect on Renee. Watching this young woman, who was little more than a stranger to the young blonde, ebb away, her eyes growing steadily duller, she felt as if her own guts were torn. Her skin was as pale as hers, so much so that when more backup arrived, the cops would probably question _her_ as a victim.

"Oh my God, she...she's dead, lady! Holy shit, she's dead, what do I _do_? What do we do?" moaned Renee, clasping for a pulse and realizing it was growing fainter by the second, and she watched, blue eyes wide and horrified as the girl slipped into a coma with Death not far behind her. She felt her lips part open slightly in shock.

Renee had never really liked dead people. Their deathly white skin pulled tight against their bones, their eyes wide open, like this girl was right now, staring at nothing in particular as her bashed-in head lolled to the side, staring bloody murder at her forever. Not that Renee didn't and couldn't respect them, she just sort of preferred them cremated or buried six feet under inside a sealed coffin under the ground, never to come back up again.

Yup. She had no problem with corpses as long as they were nowhere near her. And right now, one was definitely near her. "Oh, _God_ ," Renee moaned, clamping a hand over her racing heart and backing up unsteadily, shakily until she felt her back press against the cold stone brick wall. "What...no way, man, this is...messed up!" she squeaked. "Th...there's no _way_ John is the Morning Killer, lady, you must have your people mixed up!"

The young blonde co-manager of the restaurant, feeling close to a nervous breakdown by this point, seized on tufts of her short blonde hair and tugged at it, grinding her teeth in anger and utter, total confusion. This...couldn't be true, there was _no_ _way_! This lady just _had_ to be lying...right?

Renee's nervous, skittish gaze flitted towards John Newall, and she flinched. John's wide-open eyes reflected everything and saw nothing. Behind them was something more intense than normal thought and his clenched two-day-stubble jaw wasn't a good sign. Renee had been hoping for, perhaps not outright forgiveness, but the beginnings of a tentative reconciliation. Now she simply hoped to get out of the meeting without giving her ex-boyfriend a reason to hate her all the more.

It felt as though her lungs were slowly filling with water as if there was just less space in them for air. Inflating her lungs felt like pushing a lead weight upon her chest. She sucked in the air as though it were treacle, or chocolate, her favorite dessert, yet she was standing in an alleyway with her ex-boyfriend and a strange woman who called herself Tonks, and her lips parted open in shock as before she co so much as say another word or ask this Stranger another question about why she was here, how she'd found them, and why, on God's green earth was she pointing that...that stick at the small of John's back, when a loud, resonating _crack_! filled the air.

Renee let out a startled scream and clenched her eyes shut. It sounded like the pop of gunfire. Oh, _God_ , this was it. How she was going to die, alone in an alleyway.

But it didn't come, and when she heard the Tonks woman's frustrated scream of anger and the unmistakable sound of something being kicked, it sounded as though in her anger she'd struck out at the metal trash can nearby with the sole of her boot, and Renee shakily opened an eye and froze.

John was...gone. Vanished. _Poof_. As if by magic or something.

Renee blinked owlishly at the spot where John had stood, thinking she was imagining things. End of a long shift, she was starting to hallucinate.

"Wha...no way, b-but he was right _there_!" Renee shouted, feeling panic well deep within the confines of her chest as she pointed a shaking finger towards the very spot against the wall where just a second ago, this Tonks woman had John freaking Newall practically dead to rights and completely at her whims and total mercy.

The young woman called Tonks slowly swiveled at the waist, and opened her mouth to say something, but did not get a chance as two more deafening cracking sounds filled the air, and soon the young woman was flanked by a pair of what Renee could only assume were undercover cops dressed in dark leather trench coats.

One on either side of her arm, and the one Renee's gaze was drawn to, he had all the usual height of a London cop, but without all the bulk. He had to be pushing thirty-nine or forty, yet he had the build of a teenager, lithe muscles under his dark shirt underneath his coat. He had the face of a dad, one who understood them.

Though when the man spoke to the other young woman, his voice was cold and devoid of warmth, and it sent a tremor of fear down Renee's spine.

"Merlin's _Beard_ ," the new arrival, a stiff-looking chap in a dark overcoat as a muscle in his jaw twitched as he looked at the dead woman's corpse lying utterly lifeless on the wet cobblestoned street in front of his boots. "I'd have _never_ believed it of you, Miss Tonks, but here we are..." he growled, in a voice utterly seething with hatred. "Nymphadora Tonks, by the authority vested in us, we hereby place you under arrest for the attempted kidnapping and murder of Colleen Henderson, where you will now be escorted to Azkaban Prison and pending awaiting a formal hearing for your heinous crimes. Anything you can say may be used against you during a full trial with the Wizengamot at the Ministry of Magic. You have the right to remain silent, and I really suggest you do, Miss Tonks. Come with us quietly. Cooperate. Please don't make me use force on a fellow Auror," he grumbled, sounding like he was not thoroughly enjoying saying such words to a fellow coworker like this woman.

His voice was like the magma chamber of a volcano, deep, but filled entirely with the molten rock. His voice could be powerful enough to make your bones feel like they were vibrating. When he spoke, everyone would turn, whether they knew him or not. His voice was just so deep, so full...

Renee blinked and her gaze shifted towards that of her savior's, for if the young woman hadn't shown up when she did, there was no telling what John would have done to her. The young woman's gray eyes met hers, and Renee flinched to see such a look of intense panic in her eyes and on her face, though she did not fight the cops. _If that's what they even are_ , she thought, biting the inside wall of her cheek, and it took Renee Barreau a second to realize the young witch had spoken to her.

"Miss Barreau, you _know_ this isn't true! She-she's a witness! She saw it!" the young witch screamed, practically hysterically, raising a shaking hand and pointing towards the young blonde. "Ask her! She'll tell you the truth, that I had _nothing_ to do with this! This is a trap! I'm being set up! He knew we were onto him, this was a _trap_! Merlin's Beard, I _had_ him dead to rights, and he Disapparated! He _vanished_ , Runcorn, before I could fully apprehend him! You _have_ to believe me! Don't _do_ this!" the young woman called Tonks pleaded, sticking out her bottom lip and biting down on it hard in a small pout, though when no man made an attempt to come near, something in the young woman with the short brown hair flecked with highlights and what looks suspiciously to Renee like pink streaks, shifted and she yelled.

Renee had no idea what to say. "I..." When she attempted to speak, her voice came out in stammers, if she was even speaking at all.

This woman, savior or not, was certifiably _insane_. Using words like Disapparated and Merlin's Beard. Who _was_ she?!

Renee watched and visibly flinched as the woman called Tonks met her gaze, and the heartbreak and surge of fear were enough to convince Renee that, crazy or not, as touched in the head as she was, she had to help this young woman. _She did sort of save your life just now, Renee_ , her conscience piped up. _It's the least you can do_.

"She's not lying!" she called out. "I...saw the whole thing," she confessed, giving her head a curt little shake to clear her mind. In truth, she wasn't entirely sure _what_ she saw, but whatever it was, Renee couldn't quite shake the feeling she was going to be going home to Billy and their cat anytime soon. At least not tonight.

Her gaze remained fixed on the young woman. Tonks, Tonks, her name is Tonks, she had to remind herself. _Weird name if you ask me but could be worse_ , and she let out a muffled yelp and promptly backed away as the tall fellow in the dark overcoat called Runcorn relinquished his grip on Tonks's arm and took a step forward.

"Wh-what do I do?" Renee squeaked, taking a deep breath and trying to appear way braver than she actually felt. She had enough of guys grabbing her tonight.

"Find Remus Lupin. He's my husband. A-and Mad-Eye too, tell him this was a trap and they have to get me out! They have to find evidence that this wasn't _me_!"

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Renee shouted, feeling her fear manifest as the all-too-familiar hot spark of anger ignite in her stomach and Renee blanched as she heard the young woman's next words.

"Step into the trash can! It's a Portkey!" the woman called Tonks called out, her voice hardened. Renee spluttered and retorted trying to think of a comeback as her gaze flitted to her immediate left and spotted the very same metal trash can she'd just overturned with her boot.

Renee blinked owlishly at the young woman. _Yup. Certifiably insane. What the bloody hell is a Portkey_?

"Are you _crazy_?!" Renee demanded, still backing away, folding her hands across her chest. "I'm _not_ getting in that thing!" she bellowed, scrunching her nose in disgust and stomping her foot in frustration, huffing in agitation. "It's riddled with literal trash, lady, are you _nuts_?! The _germs_! Eugh, no _way_ , Miss Tonks! Are you perhaps _short_ of a _marble_?!"

" **JUST DO IT**!" Tonks screamed, near tears at this point, and yet there was a hint of steel in the woman's hardened voice that told Renee to comply, or _else_ , and judging by the startled responses of her fellow male coworkers, the fully-grown adult detectives clearly didn't want her setting even so much as a finger on the trash can. They didn't want her anywhere near the trash can, which had piqued her curiosity enough to cause her to want to try to go for it if only to humor her savior.

"Oooh. I can't believe I'm really doing this," Renee moaned, setting the trash can upright and lifting her leg and gingerly setting foot near it. The second her foot touched the bottom of the empty trash can (thank God!), the young blonde clenched her eyes shut and turned her head rather violently to the side so as to not look.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Renee cracked open one eyelid to still see the young woman called Tonks struggling in vain against the two men holding her captive. Nothing. Nothing was happening.

"Oh, thank God," Renee breathed, exhaling a tense, shaking breath of relief and let out a nervous chuckle, reaching up a sweaty palm to swipe her bangs out of her eyes. "You really had me going there for a second, lady! For a moment there, I thought you were totally serious and- **OH, SHIT**!"

The trash can had begun to violently shake and before she had the bright idea to scramble out of the damned thing and get to a safe distance, away from this cesspool of an alleyway where the crazies hung out, the trash can began to emit a bright blue, glowing aura and had started to pulsate. Renee felt herself being drawn into it before she could even think of letting go or screaming for someone to help her.

The last thing she remembered before there was a loud crack and a blinding white light was the outraged faces of that creep called Runcorn lunging for her, a cry of rage upon his lips, and the pads of his fingertips barely brushed her shoulders before Renee Elizabeth Barreau vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

Well over seven hundred miles away by now, the Morning Killer had Disapparated to safety to the relatively warm and inviting comfort of his safe house.

The house he had picked to lay low in had lain dormant now for two decades, empty since the old owners of the place and who had lived here until he'd inhabited it as his safe house were murdered by Muggle wands called guns, children, and all. Even just stepping one foot over the threshold and into the house's entryway set the man's heart beating faster than the Morning Killer knew that it could, though there was a larger part of him that _liked_ it.

A nightmare in his green eyes and his inquisitive mind without ever having to sleep.

The dry winds carrying their strangled screams and faint voices. The flashes of light in the darkness. The doors constantly opening and closing their gaping maws. The blood dripping from the eyes of those trapped within a canvas made of sorrow and dread.

The rolling floors and the vibrating walls. Their blood staining every wall, their tears filling the well that lay vacant with merely a broken bucket hung by a mere string of rope. Spiders wove their tales of woe in a code only the dead and the dying could read. Crows flew over the house to eat the souls that could not hide, could not leave. This desolate place that inhabited no breathing man, was not a place of fear, but rather silence. And the Morning Killer _liked_ it. He preferred it this way.

He let out a sigh as he flung open the door to an old-fashioned living parlor. It had been a pure stroke of genius, his little plan to frame the _bitch_ who had _ruined_ his life, sent his son to rot in Azkaban Prison. Following that little blonde lass and impersonating someone she knew, in this case, it was that of her ex-boyfriend.

The Muggle lawyer, John Newall, who the Muggle law enforcement would find no traces of the wretched man's body that he'd killed and unceremoniously stuffed in one of his vintage ale barrels that would contain the smell in the lawyer's house for the time being.

As he thought of the look of dawning and abject horror on the woman's face right as he'd Disapparated and left her to _rot_ there, taking the blame for his recent murder, his only wish was that he could have stayed to watch the bitch being arrested.

The need for revenge on what the bright young Auror had done to his son, that _she_ was the cause of why he had _died_ in prison at the hands of the Dementors, or rather, their _Kiss_ , was like a rat gnawing at his soul, relentless, unceasing, it could only be stopped by the cold steel of a rat trap, a trap he would devise himself. His need for revenge was like an abscess on the skin of the soul that could only be cured by the cruel sharp steel point of revenge.

Festering like a septic wound, and the only effective antibiotic is cold hard revenge. Savage. Spiteful. A dish best served cold. Unforgiving. He would bear a grudge until the Morning Killer died or took revenge on her, whichever came first. Settling old scores. Brutal. Callous. Satisfying. Empty. Pointless. Excessive. Mean spirited.

It appealed to his twisted and dark sense of macabre humor.

And in seeking vengeance for that of his lost son, the Morning Killer had separated Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin from hers. _A fitting punishment_ , he thought.

The Morning Killer prided himself on his thoroughness. He had been tailing the bitch now for weeks on end.

Knew her routines, where she stopped, her routes, all of it. Though now, as he collapsed against the aging old-fashioned leather armchair and staring into the depths of the fire in the fireplace as he pointed his wand at the hearth, flames emanating from the tips of his wand, he realized he did not truly know the meaning of thoroughness until now. He bit the wall of his cheek and his tongue.

The blonde-haired little Muggle _bitch_ was going to be something of a problem for him, and he hadn't anticipated that she'd put up that much of a fuss against him, he admitted, rather begrudgingly, though he figured he would find the girl soon enough, Portkey or not, and then he would do away with her problematic little _ass_ by ending her life. She was, after all, the only witness to that little incident in the back alleyway of Echo Alley.

And there could be _no_ witnesses. The only question to him that remained was _how_ to do it? These things, disposing of a body, making the decision to end a human life, had to be done _delicately_. There could be _no_ ties to him. He frowned, staring at the flames in the fireplace, his dark brows knitting together in intense concentration. The flame has no culture, no pity, no mind, yet it consumed whatever it pleased. Its only criteria were if it could take an object and reduce it to ash or something molten and foul, then it would. The flames in the hearth burned bright and hot, short, and violent, with no care what would be left behind.

The fire crackled, sending its warmth out into the desolate living parlor and bathed half of the Morning Killer's handsome face in a light orange glow, the other half shrouded completely in shadow.

Though the warmth did not quite reach his soul. If anything, he felt cold. Cold and alone. Even as he stared into the lit fire, it was not fire he saw, though the hot tear-drop danced orange and yellow in the otherwise dimly lit and chilled room, he saw her. Mrs. _Lupin_. The woman who'd dared to marry a wretched _wolf_.

The only solace that he could provide himself at this time was that, by taking his son away from him, was that the Morning Killer could return the favor by taking her precious baby cub away from her. And he would be there to watch her deterioration.

His only wish was that his son could be here to _watch_ …

* * *

Tonks grumbled to herself under her breath and jerked upright, panicked, but her wrists refused to move at all. Something sharp and cold dug into her skin. Tonks glanced down and saw there was a pair of magically enchanted handcuffs holding her hands to the table in the interrogation room back at the Ministry of Magic, where Runcorn had brought her in for a brief bout of questioning before escorting her for processing to Azkaban Prison.

_Barreau_ , she thought wildly, thinking of the petite little blonde woman whose life she'd saved not even fifteen minutes ago, _you're my only hope now. Hopefully, she finds Rem and Moody. Tells them what happened. They'll… they'll get me out_ , she thought, though even in her conscience, it felt to Tonks as though her voice lacked the conviction to sell the argument she really wanted to make.

As an Auror, she wasn't _stupid_. She couldn't afford to be, not in this line of work, and it did not take an intellectual genius like Albus Dumbledore for her to know what that unfortunate scene must have looked like to Runcorn and Kirkpatrick, the other Auror who had been called as backup. The Morning Killer had vanished at precisely the exact moment prior to Runcorn's arrival, and she cursed herself for not being more attentive and reactionary. _If I had, I could've…_ Tonks clenched her eyes tightly shut, and turned her head to the side.

_No. Don't go there. Stay calm, it might be your only way out of this. Need to get home to Teddy and Rem. Do whatever they say, let them ask their questions, give honest answers. Constant vigilance, T_ , she quoted, echoing Moody's advice to her all throughout her training when she'd first qualified as an Auror years ago.

She bit down on the wall of her cheek, running her tongue along the top wall of her teeth, and then her tongue, feeling an odd coldness on her tongue that when the door opened and slammed shut, making Tonks jump a little bit out of skittishness with the only slack that she was given to move a bit.

Tonks practically felt her pupils dilate as she looked around the room.

The interrogation room was every shade of grey, from washed-out concrete to almost steel-blue. Every line was straight, every corner sharp, and the damned chairs in here, of which there were only two, one that she was currently occupying and one that Runcorn was currently situating himself in, stowing his wand in his trench coat pocket before taking a seat, intertwining his fingers together and fixing the young witch with a brilliantly cold stare.

"You cold, Mrs. Lupin? I can get you a blanket or something."

Tonks ground her teeth in anger and did not immediately answer Runcorn. This was _bullshit_ , _all_ of it. Runcorn _knew_ her, he worked alongside her in the same department! He should know better than anyone of her innocence! This was a setup!

When it became quite clear to the older Auror that Tonks was not going to be goaded into responding, his posture stiffened and a muscle in his jaw and eye twitched.

"I don't think I need to further introduce myself, Tonks, but let the record state that my name is Auror Albert Runcorn. I am here to interrogate you, Mrs. Lupin. Do you understand what I am telling you?" Runcorn spoke, slowly, methodically, careful.

Runcorn was cranky. She didn't even have to look him in the eye to see it, to see how a muscle in his jaw continued to jump, or the way his cold gaze flitted to hers.

"What is your _name_." He repeated it, and Tonks clenched her jaw in anger. "TELL ME!" he repeated sternly, practically exploding with anger as a muscle in his vein throbbed. Tonks did not respond, favoring silence as an apt response to his aggression. She knew all too well what he was doing. Baiting her, trapping her like this.

Well. It _wasn't_ going to _work_. She was _innocent_ , and she was going to answer no questions until she talked to a fellow Auror that was going to _believe_ her statement.

Tonks felt a sudden wash of cold engulf her entirely, but no darkness came as Runcorn broke the enchanted handcuffs with a curt rapping of his wand, and then proceeded to wrap his large, and slightly calloused hands around the pale column of her throat and squeezed. Not enough to immediately kill her, but just enough to enforce his intended message: Confess. Or _else_.

Well, she _wouldn't_. She had _nothing_ to confess!

Runcorn, using just a little of his overwhelming strength, slowly raised Tonks out of her seat in the interrogation room and off the ground. Tonks kicked and squirmed, but it was no use. Coughing and gasping for air, just as her vision went blurry, she heard the unmistakable sound of the door bursting open and another Ministry official came into the room, and Runcorn relinquished his ironclad grip on her throat, dropping her to the ground and not giving his fellow Auror so much as a second glance behind him as the man was promptly escorted out of the room, while Tonks sat, collapsed in a heap on the cold linoleum floor, panting for breath, a hand on her throat.

She was still coughing and gasping for air, willing the black swirling mists dancing in front of her vision to leave her eyesight when a familiar, pudgy, pink-manicured hand outreached in front of her and gently helped pull her to her feet.

"M—Madame Undersecretary," Tonks spluttered, stammering as Umbridge laid a surprisingly gentle hand on Tonks's shoulder as Dora allowed herself to be guided back to the chair, albeit this time without the restraints. "A-are you here to… to…"

_Take my statement_ , is what she wanted to ask, though a violent coughing spell erupted and cut her off from what she wanted to say, and Umbridge waited patiently as Tonks turned her head to the side and covered, covering her mouth while she did so.

"I am here to question you, Mrs. Lupin," Dolores Jane Umbridge began in a falsely honeyed, sweet, almost simpering tone as she took a moment to get herself situated and seated at the opposite end of the table in the interrogation room, giving a sharp rap of her wand and Tonks watched as a black quill floated in mid-air and hovered next to a clipboard. "I am sure you can understand the … _predicament_ I find myself in."

Dolores clucked her tongue in disappointment and shook her head, reaching up a manicured hand to pat at her short dark curls. "For the record, Mrs. Lupin, I do not believe you to be _guilty_ of this crime of which you are being accused, but Ministry protocol initiates that we institute a formal investigation into this _very_ serious matter."

Tonks blinked owlishly at the short, stout witch clad in pink who was currently speaking down to her as though she were twelve years old, not twenty-six. While not exactly bosom friends, the two witches mutually respected one another, at least in the workplace, and she could hardly dare to believe her own ears that Dolores thought Tonks was innocent, though, if she truly believed her and took her statement, then perhaps Umbridge would be, at the very least, willing to listen and hear her out.

_Still_ , she thought, albeit rather sadly. There was the matter of the Anti-Werewolf Legislation Act that she initiated, though Rufus Scrimgeour, upon first getting elected as newly appointed Minister of Magic, one of the first things he had done when he took office was to repeal the bill and work towards making better lives for people like Remus afflicted with the curse of lycanthropy, something Dolores detested.

Though, to the best of her ability, Dolores was blissfully unaware that Tonks's husband was a werewolf, as Tonks could not remember Remus ever registering under the Legislation Act, thinking that he was not about to subject himself to further ridicule.

There was still something within Tonks that harbored a twinge of caution towards the pink-clad aging witch currently seated across from her, and she hated it.

She despised feeling this way about any of her fellow coworkers, regardless of whether she liked them or not. Tonks wanted to work well with and get along with everyone, no matter their stance or status in this life. It didn't matter to her necessarily.

The Senior Undersecretary to Minister Scrimgeour scrunched her nose in disgust as she glanced back over her shoulder towards the now-closed wooden door.

"I _do_ _apologize_ for Mr. Runcorn's behavior, Mrs. Lupin. His treatment towards you just now was entirely _uncouth_ and quite frankly, _unacceptable_ , my dear. You can rest assured that Albert will be dealt with accordingly, make no mistake," she said, sounding somewhat hesitant as she waved her wand and conjured a teapot, teacup, and what looked to Tonks like a bowl of sugar. Dolores made a show of putting one, two, and three lumps of white sugar into her steaming mug of tea, before making a second cup and pressing one across the table towards Tonks. " _Drink_ , dearie. You look peaky."

Her voice was rather clipped and curt, and Tonks, though initially suspicious of the beverage in front of her, believing Umbridge to have spiked the tea with either Veritaserum or some other potion that would procure the truth to tumble unchecked from her lips, decided that, since she had nothing to hide, she was innocent, that it could not hurt to humor the Senior Undersecretary and drink the tea given to her.

Tonks slowly and methodically lifted the rim of the teacup to her lips and drank, feeling the hot liquid burn her taste buds as it went down her esophagus and very sweet. She resisted the urge to scrunch her nose and set the teacup down and pushed it aside, suddenly no longer thirsty, though the warm feeling in her throat still lingered.

No traces of Veritaserum or any other potion intermingled with the taste of the tea that she could detect, though the warm feeling in her chest and throat persisting was rather unnerving to her. _There has to be something in this drink of hers_ , she thought.

Dolores gave a high-pitched hemming cough that sounded more like a poorly disguised giggle to regain Tonks's attention back towards her and Tonks looked up.

"Would it be all right if I ask you a few questions, dear?" she began in a voice that oozed sympathy, though this only proceeded Tonks's guard to go up even more.

Tonks nodded her head slowly, though there were a thousand retorts burning on the tip of her tongue, as she wanted nothing more than to seize on tufts of her hair and scream at Umbridge and anyone else willing to listen to her that she was _innocent_.

The young wife and mother wanted to ask Dolores why the Auror Department hadn't paid closer attention to the Morning Killer's patterns before, and why it was only now, as the attacks crept closer and closer to the London area and the Ministry of Magic itself, that they had begun to take a vested interest in catching the man, and _why_ , most of all, was she held in this interrogation room against her will and being questioned like she was the prime suspect in the murder of that poor Muggle girl back in the alleyway?

And why hadn't Runcorn and the other Auror who was with Runcorn at the time of his arrival, why hadn't they bothered to take that Muggle girl's statement?

Renee Barreau was a witness. She had seen the Morning Killer's face with her own two eyes, and it was a simple matter of using a Memory Charm on the girl once the Auror Department had extracted the necessary information from her mind vital to their case, but no, Runcorn hadn't even shown an interest in doing that first of all!

No. Tonks furrowed her brows in a frown. Something bigger was happening, bigger than herself, something that she felt she was dangerously close to putting her finger on, otherwise why would Runcorn completely bypass the normal protocol and standard procedures when it came to how the Aurors questioned potential suspects and witnesses.

But… _what_? _What if… what if someone in the Ministry is working for him_?! She felt her face rapidly drain of color, what little of it she possessed to begin with, as naturally pale as she was, at even just thinking it. It was a troubling thought.

Though one that, given her current dire predicament, she could not prove, much less her own innocence. She had a sinking feeling developing in the pit of her stomach that not even Umbridge was about to believe her claims of her innocence.

Besides, if word got out to Dolores that Tonks had married a half-blooded, fully-fledged _werewolf_ , creatures whom Umbridge detested and feared with a fiery passion, any credibility and trust that she had gained in Umbridge's eyes while working with the aging, older witch would fly out the window faster than Harry's Firebolt.

Tonks nodded mutely in agreement, clutching at her ribcage, and still breathing heavily as she struggled to force air to return to her lungs that otherwise wouldn't come. _Damn Runcorn and his strength_ , she thought, wincing as she ran the pads of her fingertips along the column of her throat, practically feeling the red marks of his fingers. _Rem isn't going to like seeing this_ , Tonks thought, though quickly felt a stab of a panic prick at her heart. _What's he going to think when he learns of this? And Teddy_!

Tonks swallowed down hard past the growing lump in her throat and nervously fidgeted with her fingers, weaving in the digits in between her white-boned knuckles.

"My—my _husband_ , Madame Undersecretary," Tonks begged, biting the inside wall of her cheek, and hating hearing the faltering crack and dip in her tone. "He—he deserves tonight to know what has happened. I have a two-week-old son at home."

Dolores Jane Umbridge offered a curt not in what she could only surmise was supposed to come off across as a sympathetic understanding. Perhaps even… _pity_ , almost.

"An owl has been sent to your home address with a letter, Mrs. Lupin, detailing what has happened, and what steps your Ministry is taking in order to get to the bottom of this little issue, and quickly. Rest assured, your husband will be informed as soon as possible."

The Senior Undersecretary stared deep into young Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin's inquisitive gray eyes, determined not to look away first as the quill scratched maddeningly on the new parchment on the clipboard floating in midair beside her head, determined to catch every last syllable of their potential suspect's confessions tonight. She was certain that Mrs. Lupin was trying to hide something from her, but still, she was determined to fool her.

Dolores Jane Umbridge contorted her lips in an awkward smile, but her pudgy cheeks were not quite so compromising. She could feel their reluctance to be molded falsely, and when the bright young witch finally averted her gaze and looked away, Umbridge's fake smile fell utterly lifeless, allowing her face to return to its usually cold, hard gawk.

One way or another, she would get the truth.

Tonks could not think of an apt response, so she favored silence and repressed a chill that went down her spine, hating it in this room. It felt wrong for her to be on this side of the table. She sighed in frustration as Umbridge waved her wand and a glass of water appeared and once again, Tonks found another drink being shoved in her face.

Out of all the times to talk to a figurehead of authority at the Ministry, why did she have to talk _alone_? Moody was all way back at Headquarters, or so she _thought_.

But then again, Tonks had to remind herself that Umbridge was just here to get her statement from her. To get her side of the story and hopefully, not accuse her of this crime, because she did not do it, though she knew not how to prove her innocence. Veritaserum or they could extract my memories, she thought wildly.

Though even memories to be used in a Pensieve could be tampered with, and if someone here at the Ministry of Magic really _was_ in league with the Morning Killer, there was every opportunity, then she wasn't sure what she could say or do that would prove her innocence. Umbridge, Tonks had to realize, as well as the rest of those in charge of the investigation surrounding their serial killer were just doing their jobs.

And Dolores's job right now was to question Tonks and get her side of the story directly.

Umbridge must have sensed her hesitation, for she intertwined her hands together, and Tonks's gaze was drawn towards a large pink sapphire ring on her right hand. "I would just like to talk with you, for now, Mrs. Lupin. You are…not in any trouble." Dolores Jane Umbridge forced a smile that did not quite meet her dark eyes.

In fact, to poor Tonks, it looked as though Dolores was downright disgruntled.

"Mr. Shacklebolt is waiting for you just outside to escort you to Azkaban Prison following this line of questioning, Mrs. Lupin. You are, for the time being, not formally charged with anything, however, given the…unusual circumstances in which Mr. Runcorn found you, we simply cannot allow you to return home to your family until the Ministry's pending formal investigation is complete. You will be detained in a holding cell in Azkaban until such a time _if_ _any_ evidence is presented to prove your innocence, dear," Umbridge began, carefully studying Tonks's reaction over the rim of her tea mug, seeming to take a twisted sense of delight in watching Tonks's color drain.

Tonks blinked owlishly at the aging witch currently seated across from her, swallowing past the lump in her throat and glancing down at the glass of ice water sitting idly in front of her. _Azkaban Prison_. A place where she never thought she'd go.

She was suddenly thirsty, and her throat felt scratchy and dry, though as she attempted to speak to Dolores, to protest this plan of hers, it was like there was a gag on her mouth and her tongue felt thick in her mouth and Tonks couldn't even speak at all.

But now, as she looked at the water and the condensation beading on the outside of the glass, it almost felt like a bloody trap. This was somehow all a setup.

_It has to be_ , Tonks thought, blinking back briny tears as visons of her husband and newborn son's faces flitted through the forefront of her mind. Oh, this was just going to _destroy_ Rem when he found out the truth. Tonks knew this better than anyone. That Remus would somehow blame _himself_ for what had happened by not insisting more vehemently that Tonks had stayed home tonight, and she was really starting to wish that she would have heeded Lupin's advice and not come tonight.

She recognized that Dolores Umbridge was no fool of a witch, that no one within the confines of the Ministry's walls itself would be stupid enough to poison her or drug her into confessing that she was behind the murder of that poor Muggle girl, of which she most certainly was not, but…Tonks could not help but be cautious.

"I…I understand," she whispered hoarsely, recognizing that this was, like it or _not_ , standard Ministry of Magic procedure when there was substantial lack of evidence against a suspected Dark Witch or Wizard, as Umbridge's sympathetic smile widened. "Will…will I be allowed to have visitors? Can my husband, Remus, will he see me?"

Umbridge merely proceeded to look at Tonks and laced her pudgy fingers together and regarded the distraught younger witch in front of her, watching with no small amount of amusement in her darkened, narrowed, beady brown eyes as Tonks's short pixie rapidly changed in color from what it was to a dark brown chocolate hue.

_No doubt an instinctive response to stress_ , Dolores thought and stifled her grin. The stout witch clad in pink took notice of Mrs. Lupin's violently shaking form, and how the fingers of her right hand continuously drifted towards the plain yellow gold wedding ring she wore proudly on her left finger, and Umbridge resisted the urge to snort, finding it difficult not to roll her eyes a bit at the sickening display of affection.

"I am afraid that I do not know, that would be up to the warden of Azkaban Prison to determine how many, if _any_ , visitors that you can be expected to receive while those of us here at the Ministry sort out this little snag," Dolores stated calmly.

When _still_ , Mrs. Lupin did not respond, Umbridge took that as her sign to continue. "Can I get you anything else, dear? Are you hungry? Tea? Biscuits? I think Mr. Shacklebolt had made mention someone in the break room had brought donuts…"

"No," Tonks stammered, burying her head in her hands, and propping her elbows upon the table, refusing to meet Umbridge's gaze as she gasped for air. "I—I just…you'll _forgive_ me if I need a _minute_ to process that I'm being charged for a crime that I _did_ _not_ _commit_ , Madame Undersecretary, and am about to be sent to _prison_!"

Her words came out harsher than she meant it to, and as Tonks lifted her head sharply upward out of her hands to regard Umbridge, she was surprised to see Dolores practically flinch away in antagonized hurt and surprise at hearing her cold words.

"I understand how _difficult_ this must be for you, Mrs. Lupin," Dolores began, offering her a smile and perhaps for the first time tonight, hoping it was genuine. "I am just here to get the truth from you. As an Auror, you _are_ aware this is merely _standard_ _procedure_ , dear, when there is a sufficient lack of evidence against a potential suspect."

Sensing that the young Auror remained to be convinced, Umbridge sighed and pinched at the bridge of her slightly crooked nose with her fat thumb and forefinger.

"You are in a state of shock, my child. It is understandable, considering the…stressful events of the night, but I can assure you, this is for your own good, that you are not in any trouble while your colleagues in the Auror Department get to the bottom of this, though you have to admit it isn't looking so good for you, my dear."

Tonks flinched, realizing the stubborn, pink-obsessed old toady was right, damn her. The Morning Killer having Disapparated precisely two seconds before Runcorn and his partner showed up on scene, the little blonde Muggle girl not that much younger than her, maybe by a year or two, the only witness, who, given Tonks had sent her away via Portkey, was not even here to provide a testimony of her own.

Oh, this _definitely_ looked bad.

Tonks let out a soft sigh and shivered, chancing a glance towards the one-way mirror. Tonks knew without a shadow of a doubt, having stood on the other side of the device more than once now, that Shacklebolt was standing on the other side of the glass, probably, hopefully, just as stunned as she was.

Though she couldn't see Kingsley, she could practically sense his presence. And right now, she wanted a familiar face to be sitting next to her, though Tonks already knew her request was going to be denied.

"Can't Kingsley come in to sit with me?" she begged pitifully, biting down on her bottom lip. "E—even if he doesn't say anything?"

But Umbridge was already shaking her head no. "I'm afraid not, dear." Her scrutinizing gaze as her eyes narrowed and looked towards Tonks's arms, covered in a few rapidly purpling bruises, a result of her encounter with the Morning Killer earlier in the alleyway when she'd fought to keep a grip on him to prevent him from escaping.

"Those look like they _hurt_. Those cuts and bruises on your arms, Mrs. Lupin. How did you happen to come by them? I have a feeling the Muggle girl did it, then?"

Tonks stared, blinking owlishly at Umbridge at hearing how the woman's voice was no longer high-pitched and girly, but much more solemn and serious this time.

And then it hit her. Dolores Umbridge did not _believe_ her. Just as Runcorn had, she thought that Tonks was guilty, and she knew it wouldn't matter what she said here.

Tonks felt the heat creep to her cheeks, and she could ignore the scratching sensation in her throat no longer and shakily reached for the glass of water staring at her from its place on the table, bringing the glass to her cracked lips with shaking fingers.

"I…apprehended our suspect in Echo Alley, Madame Undersecretary, just as he was about to do unspeakable harm to a young Muggle woman named Renee Barreau."

"I see." The Senior Undersecretary murmured, and Tonks found it difficult not to ignore the scratching of the heavy black quill on the parchment as it took her statement. Tonks flinched visibly at hearing the curtness of Madame Umbridge's tone.

"He attempted to resist arrest," Tonks continued, having to raise her voice slightly in a vain effort to attempt to ignore the damned infuriating sound of the quill's tip against the parchment, knowing that every second that blasted quill worked, it was a second away from having her sent to Azkaban Prison until her innocence was proved. "Just before he Disapparated before Runcorn arrived, he—he scratched me, Dolores."

"Oh? What exactly _happened_ , Mrs. Lupin, if you don't mind my asking?" Umbridge asked in a voice that did not sound entirely convinced, and Dolores leaned over the interrogation table and her pudgy fingertips grazed against the top of Tonks's forearm, to which she responded in kind by immediately shirking back from her surprisingly gentle touch, her back pressed against the chair as much as possible.

" _Don't_ ," Tonks pleaded, inhaling a sharp breath of cold air that pained her lungs, and before she could even fathom what she was doing, she reached up and slapped Umbridge's hand away. "I—I'm sorry," she apologized, the moment she saw the all-too-familiar flicker of anger dart through the Senior Undersecretary's brown eyes. "I—I didn't mean to, I—I don't like people I don't know touching me…"

"But you _do_ know me, dearie," Umbridge persisted in a honey-sweet voice, pursing her lips into a thin, rigid line and she offered Tonks a curt nod, forcing an obviously faked smile in Tonks's mind, though she could read this one like a book.

It was in her eyes. Tonks wished Dolores Jane Umbridge had kept her trance at the spot on the wall behind her head, and the young Auror knew deliberation was done. Like it or not, Umbridge believed her to be guilty of murdering that Muggle.

She had judged Tonks already, and in Umbridge's eyes, she only saw hatred.

"It's quite all right, dear," Umbridge breathed in a forgiving tone that did not reach her eyes. Dolores huffed in frustration as she felt her shoulders sag as she leaned back in her chair and regarded the skittish young witch's nervous gray eyes in silence.

When Mrs. Lupin did not respond, Umbridge sighed and continued speaking. " _Listen_ to me, dear. I am not here to hurt you, nor am I here to accuse you of anything. I am simply here to get the facts. Nothing more and nothing less. I do not believe you to have murdered that Muggle woman in the alleyway, though even you cannot deny that the evidence mounting against you is not at all in your favor, dear. I realize that you are the victim in this scenario, Mrs. Lupin, but until the Aurors can prove otherwise, or if they can find this mysterious Muggle who _vanished_ ," Umbridge added darkly, shooting a glowering look across the interrogation table at Tonks.

Tonks swallowed nervously, thinking that perhaps it had been a mistake to send the young blonde girl away via Portkey before the Aurors could get a statement from her, though she'd seen that antagonizing look in Runcorn's eyes, and she decided to remain firm in her belief that, while it looked suspicious to send her away, she was perhaps her only hope in getting the message to her husband and Moody that this was all a huge misunderstanding, and she would need help to get herself out of this one.

"I understand that it's only natural to feel nervous," Umbridge continued on. "What happened tonight to you was quite frightening, dear, but you must tell me everything that you can remember, otherwise then I am afraid I cannot help you."

So, there it was then. Umbridge wanted out of her a confession of guilt.

_Could Umbridge be working with the Morning Killer_? Tonks thought, blinking back tears.

That was even more of a troubling thought, though she could not rule it out. Umbridge reached over and grabbed hold of Tonks's hand, squeezing her left hand a little tighter than what should have otherwise been a reassuring gesture. Tonks flinched, saying nothing in response, and Umbridge promptly let go of her hand and sighed.

"Why can't you… _memories_ , pull my memories!" Tonks begged desperately, sticking out her bottom lip in a slight pout and biting down hard as she jerked her hand back and tenderly rubbed it. She swallowed nervously and glanced over at Umbridge.

The way her dark brown eyes squinted as Dolores Jane Umbridge glowered at Tonks reminded her of a snake's slit-like pupils, and suddenly, Tonks wondered if, throughout her entire career as an Auror and now in this clerical role at the Ministry now that she was a new mother if she had been too lenient in her initial assessment of Umbridge. Tonks gulped and took a swig of water from the glass nearby nervously.

A burning animosity was developing in the Senior Undersecretary's dark brown eyes, and Tonks knew that she was likely the root cause of her problems right now.

"Pull my memories," Tonks insisted, hating hearing the faltering crack and dip in her voice. "Use them in a Pensieve in front of a full Wizengamot trial, I don't care!"

But even as she spoke the words, Dolores Jane Umbridge was already shaking her head no and clasping her fingers together, folding them in front of her on the table.

"You know as well as _I_ do, Mrs. Lupin, that that tactic only _works_ if we have _all_ of the memories present. Yours _and_ the young Muggle woman's, what did you say her name was, again, dearie? Renee… Beaumont? Started with a 'B', didn't it, dearie?"

Tonks silently seethed at the name-calling, wanting nothing more than to slap that sickening sweet grin off of Umbridge's stout, toad-like, falsely sympathetic face.

Though she managed to quell and tamp down the urge, thinking that such violence, given her precarious situation, would only do her further harm here.

Tonks swallowed. "Barreau, Madame Undersecretary. If…" Tonks hesitated, biting her lip. "If this young woman could be present and accounted for," she began hesitantly, glancing down and nervously fidgeting with her fingers, "then…would the Wizengamot use her memories in full? Barreau was there, she saw the man vanish!"

Umbridge gave a curt nod, though the witch clad in pink looked most displeased at the idea. "They _would_ , as I'm sure you well know, dear. Though it would only _work_ with both her _and_ your memories to corroborate your side of the story and, assuming that both of your memories were to be, shall we say, in _sync_ with one another, then it would very much likely prove your innocence and you would be _free_."

Tonks nodded, though just as quickly as the brief flicker of hope had welled and ignited as a mere flickering ember flame of fire had begun, Umbridge doused it.

"Though," Umbridge continued steadily, as though she had not noticed the sudden shift in Tonks's behavior thus far in the point of their one-sided conversation, "given that the young Muggle woman in question is not _here_ ," Umbridge simpered, "Then I am afraid I have no other choice available to me but to have Mr. Shacklebolt escort you to Azkaban Prison, dearie, where you will be kept in a holding cell pending the formal investigation into this matter. We will be in further contact with you, Mrs. Lupin." Umbridge instructed, as she pointed her wand at the door, and Tonks heard it click and swing open gently, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's towering form stepped inside.

The tall, dark wizard clad in a set of neat, pristine, azure robes wore a solemn and forlorn expression on his face as he offered Tonks a brief nod of acknowledgment.

"Mr. Shacklebolt, if you would kindly escort Mrs. Lupin to Azkaban," Dolores Umbridge instructed, tapping her wand once more and allowing the black quill and clipboard to fall into her arms, where she clutched the items close to her broad chest.

Kingsley favored silence as a response and instead proceeded to offer Tonks his arm. Feeling incredibly dizzy and short of breath, Tonks gratefully accepted it, though feeling like her legs was lead as she allowed Kingsley Shacklebolt to escort her outside.

"King, you _know_ I didn't _do_ this," Tonks breathed, once the two of them were alone, the sound of Dolores Jane Umbridge's pink wedged heels clacking leaving their eardrums as the stout witch almost tottered out of the interrogation room and down the corridor, no doubt to head back towards her office, relatively close to the Minister's. Tonks bit down on her bottom lip and this time did not bother to blink back her tears. "I don't care what it looks like, I'm _innocent_! _You have to trust me_!"

"I _know_ you didn't, Tonks. But like it or not, this is the way. We'll get you out." Kingsley's deep, baritone voice reverberated through Tonks's bones as Shacklebolt slid a strong, broad arm over Tonks's shoulders and gripped onto her arm tightly and Disapparated via Side-Along Apparition with a loud _crack_! to Azkaban Prison.

Tonks swallowed nervously as she had to crane her neck up at the intimidating building, and she glanced down and immediately wished that she hadn't done it.

Her and Kingsley were standing on a boulder somehow, in the middle of the ocean near a cliff, and fear and dread coursed through her veins and bloodstream as an icy chill came over her as she saw hundreds of Dementors, the foulest of creatures, swarming the prison-like ants.

Tonks knew if this fort of stone, built on blood and bone and the screams of the prisoners that lay trapped within their prison cells, could talk, she would beg for deafness. Moss clung in the shade of the ancient walls like a straggly beard. The once-proud turrets had crumbled in places giving the impression of a disheveled party hat. Tonks opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out at all.

"I…I'm _innocent_ , King, you _know_ that." It was all she could say. " _Remus_!"

"He will be told the truth. The Order will keep a close watch on your husband and son, Tonks. We won't let Remus do anything rash, so don't worry too much. Just concentrate on yourself, getting through this, and finding a way to prove your innocence. And _behave_." Kingsley informed the distraught young witch, wife, and mother, calmly. Kingsley wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled Tonks close, gently rubbing her arm, doing what he could to show his friend and fellow coworker that he fully supported her and believed her statement. "We _will_ get to the bottom of this."

Tonks nodded, swallowing back acidic stomach bile. "Tell…Tell Rem and my baby that…that I love them, in case…in case I don't get visitors in here, while…"

But her voice cracked and faltered, and she was sure slick tears would slip from her lids at any given moment, as her voice trailed off and she didn't finish her thought.

But Kingsley, sensing Tonks needed the comfort before escorting her towards the front, where an Azkaban Guard in a black uniform was eyeing the pair suspiciously, did not give Tonks a chance to speak, and instead, pulled her close in a warm embrace.

Despite the heaviness in her stomach as it churned and recoiled, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against Kingsley's, grateful at least, that someone believed her. Tonks sunk into the warmth of Kingsley Shacklebolt's side, appreciative of her friend's simple gesture.

His touch made the damned interior of Azkaban Prison's entryway warmer somehow, her uncertain future within its walls a little less bleak.

And that, to her at the moment, meant the world.


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius Black felt himself bristle in rapidly growing anger and discontentment as he looked towards former classmate and quite frankly, the greasiest-haired _git_ he'd ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on, Severus Snape.

He didn't think that he could _ever_ recall being addressed in such a rude and degrading tone before, and he sorely resented the fact the former Hogwarts Headmaster was now allowed inside his bloody house for an Order meeting.

And Sirius _hated_ it. In fact, throughout the Order, Sirius was a highly valued member known for his skillset in dueling and a keen mind.

And now for the very man who'd helped to sell out James and Lily Potter to Lord Voldemort all those years ago, to stand on his own, sit at his parents' kitchen table, and to speak so brazenly and openly to Black in this manner.

He guessed he should have been used to it. To put it politely, it wasn't necessarily the _warmest_ of feelings.

"Do I need to say it a _second_ time, Black? Please don't make me say it a _second_ time, _dog_ , you know I loathe repeating myself, especially to a dim-witted simpleton such as yourself, Black," Severus drolled in his usual flat, monotone, baritone voice as the git regarded Sirius from the opposite side of the long rectangular kitchen table. "What troubles your mind, that _one_ working brain cell that must be working on overdrive because you look like you're thinking, _so_ very _hard_. I'm sure it must be _exhausting_ work for you, is it not?"

Snape's dark brows came together in a quandary as he folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the clinking and clattering of plates as Mrs. Weasley cleared the table.

Sirius blinked, forcing himself to return to his attentions to Snape, pouting for a half-second as the Potions Professor had just interrupted a rather blissful fantasy scenario. One in which it involved Snivellus's _gruesome_ death and Black was there to watch. Hatred brought him to despise the man standing in front of him for playing a part in Lily and James's death. Sirius scowled, furrowing his dark brows in a frown.

"Oh, Snivellus," he sneered, the edges of his lips turning upwards in a twisted sneer. "I didn't know that you cared _so much_ about my well-being to ask after me."

Now, it was Severus's turn to sneer. "I _don't_ ," Severus Snape retorted hotly, keeping his arms folded across his chest and glowering at Sirius, who copied the gesture in kind. "However, it is for the sake of the Order that you come to these meetings with a clear mind and a level conscience, of which _you_ , Black, possess _neither_ ," he growled, no traces or semblance of warmth in his baritone voice. "Things were just fine, Black, until this exact moment. Perhaps if you would pay attention during meetings, myself and the others here gathered at this table need not repeat ourselves to you, _dog_ …"

Sirius snorted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "What's the matter, _Snivellus_? Your time in the Order isn't more valuable to you than running along and playing with your chemistry set, is it?" he barked, feeling his temper surge as dragon fire in his veins ignoring the dark, withering look that Moony shot him, that would have had the power to wilt a blooming rose, as he got up with Molly.

Moony had no doubt hearing baby Teddy's screaming wails from one of the spare bedrooms upstairs that Mrs. Weasley had painstakingly gone to great lengths to set up as a nursery of sorts whenever Order meetings were underway and if Renee was on duty at the Ministry, the Lupins did not want to leave their baby unattended, so the proud new parents had been granted permission by Professor Dumbledore and Sirius (given that this was his parents' house, and now more so rightfully his) to bring Teddy along with them for supervision.

Severus pursed his lips into a thin, rigid scowl as his dark brows came together, creating wrinkles on his otherwise smooth forehead as he rested his right cheek in his fist and was looking thoroughly bored, as though he would rather be anywhere else.

" _You_ are what's wrong, Black," Severus growled, unaware that his other hand had curled into an almost possessive, ironclad grip around the handle of his wine glass. He ignored Sirius's triumphant smirk currently forming at the edges of his mouth and continued. "You're like a festering wound eating away at the depths of my very soul. Every time I think I've found a way to get the hell away from you and the _wolf_ ," he spat, relishing in the dawning look of outrage on Sirius's face as he referred to Remus, "and that wretched banshee of a succubus that he _dares_ to call his mate," he snarled viciously, "life, this cruel _bastard_ , finds another way to torment me so by throwing all of you back into my path. Looking at you makes me want to pour acid into my eyes. Hearing you wants me to wish that I was deaf. Looking at you, Black, _literally kills_ me. Just being forced to be in the same room as you, after all, this time makes my very organs begin to shut down, and every time Professor Dumbledore forces the two of us to interact, it makes me wish that a Dementor would come along so that I would _gladly_ endure its Kiss than have to spend another second in your insufferable presence, Black."

Sirius scowled and felt his blood boil within his veins, hotter than any dragon fir could ever flame as he seethed in silence, though with the Weasley twins and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's youngest son, Ron, and his girlfriend, Hermione present, he refused to set a bad example, though he wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and strangle the sallow-faced, black-haired, greasy, evil _git_ with his own two bare hands.

Black could think of no verbal comeback to offer as a retort and merely opted to be the stronger and better man here and favored silence as an apt response, biting the wall of his cheek and glowering after Snape's silhouette as the black-haired Potions Professor mumbled a half-hearted excuse towards Mrs. Weasley and vacated the room.

Sirius frowned as he watched Snape's black robes billow out from behind him as he practically strutted down the hallway, the man himself filled with a sense of purpose.

"Yeah. Purpose of being an annoying _git_. I don't care _what_ Harry or anybody else says about his 'character', he deserves to be boiled in frog spawn and his legs cut off." He was grateful that Moony and Mrs. Weasley wasn't around to hear _that_ quip.

This always bloody _happened_. He _tried_ to show at least a modicum of respect towards Severus now that the truth was out, that he had been allied on their side all this time, though the simple fact of the matter remained that, like it or not, the man had still played a part in the deaths of his best friends. Of James and Lily.

He _tried_ to be different, for Harry's sake, given it was Harry himself who had uncovered the truth.

Though it was increasingly difficult, given how in most if not all of their interactions thus far, even now that everyone within the Order knew the truth of Severus Snape and his true allegiances, but Severus seemed hellbent on consistently expressing anger towards his past, especially in the presence of Sirius and Remus.

And this sort of behavior suggested to Sirius that Severus was not at all interested in trying to make amends or even atone for previous mistakes, which made it in turn that much more difficult for Sirius to also want to change his behaviors towards Snape.

Why, by Merlin's left saggy buttock, should he be nice to Snape if the greasy-haired git wasn't going to make any effort whatsoever on his part to be courteous?

It made him want to be the lesser man most nights and jinx the man, though he knew that it would set a poor example now for _both_ of his godsons, especially Teddy.

The former Hogwarts Headmaster had vanished at precisely the exact moment before Lord Voldemort set his snake, Nagini, to try to kill him, though not before providing Potter with a series of memories that conveyed to him the truth that allowed his godson to defeat Lord Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts one month ago.

He would have thought, _naturally_ , following Voldemort's death, that the Order of the Phoenix would have disbanded, though Professor Dumbledore insisted the Order remain intact, especially now as the wizarding world struggled with the regime change.

Crime had actually, by some miracle of Merlin's Light Himself, had fallen, though Sirius was yet to be convinced. He was just waiting for one of the Dark wizards, what were left of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters, to fire the first jinx, make the move.

Though the Dark Lord was dead, the war felt like it raged on. Sirius knew it was only a matter of time before some other Dark witch or wizard stepped in and attempted to finish Lord Voldemort's work, and they, as Order members and soldiers, would continue to fight, battling, working to round up every last one of them.

Sirius's frown only deepened as he stared after the open entryway of the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place at the spot in the doorway where Snape had stood.

He couldn't understand why he couldn't seem to let go of his 'schoolboy grudge' as Moony was so affectionately fond of calling his hatred towards Severus.

Oh, Sirius knew he ought to, but knowing that you should do it and actually doing it were two completely different matters entirely, no matter what Remus said. He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and immediately furrowed his brows in a frown.

"What in Merlin's beard is that …? Uh? _Guys_?" he hollered, hoping that Lupin or Arthur or Molly were nearby. "You might want to come and take a look at this."

Remus and Arthur poked their heads in through the kitchen doorway before entering fully. Lupin frowned, pursing his lips into a thin line, noticing where Sirius was looking, and curiously, now that Teddy had been put down upstairs for a nap in the makeshift nursery that Mrs. Weasley had made for their baby during Order meetings, and Molly was looking after him for a while until he woke up, he followed his line of sight.

Now, Sirius had never _particularly_ paid attention to his parents' kitchen ceiling before, but he was fairly certain that ceilings weren't supposed to emit a faint blue glow.

It was not very large, about the size of a metal trash can lid. However, after a moment of Sirius, Lupin, and Arthur observing it, each man with equally dumbfounded looks on their faces, the strange light emanating from Sirius's kitchen ceiling started glowing and growing. And growing. And growing.

The damned strange blue light began to grow until it very nearly took over the size of the entire ceiling wall itself.

Sirius and Remus simultaneously pulled their wands from their jacket pockets, wands at the ready. If anything, their lives had taught them throughout the First and now the end of the Second Wizarding War, it was to never let your guard down and be prepared for anything that might come their way.

For all they knew, a Death Eater could be about to encroach upon their territory in an attempt to come after Harry.

"Good Lord," murmured Arthur, the fingers of his wand hand curling instinctively over the handle of his wand, his light brown eyes widening in disbelief.

His narrowed eyes never once leaving the ceiling, Sirius could no longer ignore the awful swooping sensation in the pit of his churning stomach that something was wrong, and he felt his entire body tense up as it prepared to do battle with whoever or _whatever_ was on the other end of this rapidly swelling, glowing dark blue light up top.

Sirius didn't know how this glowing blue light came to appear on top of the kitchen ceiling here at Headquarters, but he did know one thing was certain: that he didn't like it, and for all he knew, this could be a ploy by a surviving Death Eater.

He could feel Arthur and Remus tense beside him too, in preparation for whatever was to come. Sirius felt the fingers of his wand hand twitch, and a shower of red sparks shot from his wand involuntarily as he ground his teeth in anticipation.

A minute passed by where nothing happened. Then another. And another. Nothing on the ceiling changed, though the light itself never faded or dissipated.

Now, it just would appear that a large blue light had somehow sought out the kitchens of headquarters and made itself feel right at home at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Arthur was the first to break the uncomfortable silence with a startled shout.

"Merlin's Beard, what is tha—" But Mr. Weasley never got the chance to finish, before he and Sirius and Remus had to shield their eyes as there was a great flash of white blinding light, the sound of someone screaming, a high-pitched noise that sounded like that of a wild animal dying or a banshee, that it would a Merlin-damned miracle if the noise didn't wake up Remus's two-week-old son or his mum's portrait.

Cries of shock and surprise from all three men filled the air, and Sirius had no choice but to squeeze his eyes tightly shut and avert his gaze from the blinding light.

He ground his teeth, jaw locked up tight, tighter than rigor mortis the moment he heard not only poor Teddy's terrified wails that he was sure would send Moony into a frantic panic to go and check on the newborn, intermingled with that of his mum's portrait—" **MUGGLE SCUM! SHAME! SHAME! FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR**!"

Between _those_ two noises, it made it incredibly difficult for Sirius to make out much of anything, save for a horrible, fatigued ringing in his eardrums that didn't cease.

There was a horrible, resounding crash and the splitting sound of splintering wood and crashed plates, and it sounded as though something had broken his table.

Sirius was vaguely aware of Molly calling to Arthur, holding a wailing baby Teddy, demanding to know what was going on and if the others needed to evacuate.

Then there was silence, and everything stopped. The blinding blue light was gone. Sirius poked one eyelid open, and then the other, blinking once, twice, three times to slowly clear his vision and regain his bearings once his vision had returned.

When Sirius slowly swiveled his head back around, he heard the collective gasps of Arthur and Remus that suggested that something had transpired in _his_ kitchen.

"What…what the bloody hell kind of frat Hogwarts new _bullshit_ is this, Moony…?" Sirius demanded hoarsely in a half-whisper, half gasp as he crept forward, pointedly ignoring the darkened look of annoyance Remus shot Sirius for his language.

There, lying across the sprawled remains of what used to be his parents' kitchen table, was a young woman, a petite little slip of a blonde thing with short golden hair.

A rather short one at that, couldn't have been taller than maybe 5'5, at best.

She had a thick tuft of short blonde hair cut short in a stylish pixie. Her skin was pale, though dotted with a light smattering of freckles that dusted along the bridge of her nose.

The blonde wore almost entirely black, and really was quite a pretty little thing, Sirius noticed, save for an ugly bleeding gash that dripped beadlets of crimson down her brow.

It did not escape Sirius's attention that he was the only one who hadn't let his guard down and continued to keep the tip of his wand pointed squarely at her chest.

Both Remus and Arthur had lowered their wands, looks of concern and shock at the young blonde's current physical condition evident on their faces. Never mind the fact that she could very likely be a Death Eater and had Apparated onto _his_ table!

Though, before Sirius could take charge of the situation, considering Moony and Mr. Weasley weren't going to make the first move, the blonde girl moved a bit.

Sirius let out a low warning growl that sounded more like a bark and waited as the blonde lass let out a groan and raised a shaking hand to her bleeding browbone.

Her other hand carded through her tuft of thick short blonde hair. She must have hit her head on the table when she'd bloody fallen through his parents' ceiling.

The girl who didn't look too much older than Tonks, or even Harry and his friends rolled over to her side, putting her features in Sirius's direct line of sight.

The young blonde woman blinked once, twice, three times and her eyelids fluttered open to reveal light pools of sky blue, the color of a robin's egg, or the sky.

" _Ow_ ," she groaned, still keeping a hand to her head. "Fuck _me_. How hard did I hit my…wh—what the…? Where the hell am I?" the young woman moaned, in pain.

But the She-Stranger did not get a chance to ask a follow-up question as Sirius was the first to react instinctively towards this Death Eater's arrival onto his kitchen table. He launched his entire bodyweight forward and promptly pinned the girl to the surface of the table, what was left of it, that is, by the sleeve of the blonde's black leather jacket. Raising his wand, Sirius let out a vicious sounding snarl as he pressed the tip of it against the column of the young woman's throat.

If this witch were a Death Eater, he'd know. He'd get her to talk. They _always_ talked. He had his ways. The girl spluttered and coughed, her eyes widening in panic, and the low murmurings of Arthur and Moony did nothing to distract Sirius from his goal of finding out just who the bloody hell this witch was, what the hell she was doing here, and why she'd fallen on his _table_!

The young blonde wrapped one of her tiny but surprisingly strong hands around the wrist that held the wand to her throat, and despite her squeaks of fear, Lupin tugging on his shoulder trying to pull Sirius away, and Arthur trying to reason with him, Sirius did not relieve his hold on the girl's jacket sleeve.

If anything, his grip tightened and increased the pressure on both the young blonde's injured shoulder, ensuring that the girl wasn't going to go anywhere that he did not want the lass to.

Sirius let out another growl and pressed the tip of his wand deeper against the column of her throat. "Who," Sirius growled lowly, his voice coming out as animalistic bark in the back of his throat, "the hell are you?"

* * *

Whatever Renee had landed on just now, it was hard. _Very_ hard. It felt as though her entire body ached. The young witch wasn't sure if she'd broken or sprained any bones during her fall, and the only thing she was absolutely certain of was that attempting any kind of movement, even just the slightest twitch, was probably a bad idea now.

Instead, Renee chose to focus on regulating her breathing as much as possible, forcing air to return to her lungs while also trying not to cry out in the process just in case something was broken or sprained.

Once breathing proved to be no longer painful, Renee, still keeping her eyes squeezed shut, decided that it was safe to test for any broken bones or torn ligaments. She wiggled her toes in her boots with no problems.

_Oh, thank fuck, no broken bones_! Then her fingers, which moved with ease, albeit rather tingly and stiffly, as though she had fallen on her hand, though there was no pain when she moved them, and nothing appeared to be broken that she could tell.

She lifted her shirt slightly and was dismayed to see bruises alongside her abdomen, blue and purple splotches.

They would smart for a week and hurt like hell, but if this was the _worst_ that had happened to her when she had fallen, then she ought to consider herself lucky.

Her _head_ , however, was debatable. Renee let out a groan through gritted teeth, not bothering to sit upright just yet. It felt as though her head had been split into two, her skull cracked wide open. It hurt as hell something _awful_! There was bound to be an egg-sized lump at the back of her skull.

Renee winced and bit the inside wall of her cheek as she lifted her arm, nearly crying out in pain and had to grind her teeth in anger in order to swallow back the urge.

Her shoulders were bruised, and just the simple movement of her arm as she gingerly lifted it to feel at the base of her skull for any lumps sent shards of pain traveling down her spine, up her neck, and around the curves of her ears.

_Damn_. Renee ground her teeth so hard, she thought a miracle of Merlin that they hadn't cracked and shattered under the sheer force of the pressure.

_Fuck me, that really hurt_. _Ow_! She didn't curse lightly, but when she did, it was always with good reason, and Renee considered this quite a good reason, given how much her entire body ached.

Renee tentatively raised a shaking hand to her hair and raked her fingers through her blonde pixie cut with ease, gingerly pressing the pads of her fingertips here and there to check for lacerations, any bumps or bruises, mentally preparing herself for when she did finally come across one.

Oh, but _goddamn_ , she hoped she didn't have a concussion. She felt a horrible sinking feeling begin to form in the pit of her churning stomach as Renee realized she probably had hit her head during the fall.

She could only hope she didn't have a concussion. And then she found it at the back of her skull.

She let out a hiss of pain as her fingers continued wandering through her hair, actively searching for the source of the hard contusion. Then she found it.

A good, solid, egg-sized lump. She had hit her head, then. The split second that her overly cautious fingers touched it, a flare of sharp, shooting pain erupted and shot down her spine like lightning.

Groaning, she winced as she forced herself to sit up, every inch of her bruised and battered body protesting slightly as she did so, shifting the strap of her black purse to better distribute its weight and try to get her bearings.

Looking around, Renee tried to steady herself, trying to comprehend what the hell happened. Her troubled, confused thoughts were enough to send swells of fright mounting in her chest, creating an unwanted heat that spiraled through her entire body.

Her whole body felt as if she had been bruised in every single crevice. Her legs felt shaky, as though they could no longer support her body weight, yet her head and shoulders were the only things that were feeling heavy.

Renee arched her back, her hands on her hips as she forced herself to stand up straighter, as the pain was rushing through her body like an igniting wildfire. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut as her face twisted and contorted into a pained grimace.

Never had she ever experienced such horrible pain in her life. This was _almost_ worse than when she'd broken right her arm in a ditch when she was only seven years old, playing in the countryside in an old tree.

Renee could feel her head spinning ultimately, her jaw clenched as she continued her somewhat incessant behavior of carding her fingers through her pixie. It helped to ease the pains.

Slowly but surely, the pain in her body began to subside a bit. Her hands relieved themselves of being entangled in her short locks of thick hair and her arms lowered to her sides, her whole body trembling with fear.

_Have to get out of here. Find that Mr. Lupin guy that crazy lady told me to find, give him the message that the lady has been arrested, and go home!_

Though what troubled her most with each ginger, half-step forward were the pains in her stomach.

The pain had an unpleasant warmth to it, eating away at her intestines. There was nausea too, just enough to make her clutch onto her purse for support.

Had she _eaten_ something, drank something that could be causing this? It wasn't the chocolate chip cookie she'd eaten earlier on her fifteen minute break, and she'd purposefully ate nothing at dinner, so…

Renee had often prized herself on her ability to ignore the pain and just rock on regardless, but that just wasn't possible right now.

It owned Renee, dominating every thought, controlled every action, permeated her mind. Blinking rapidly, grinding her teeth, one hand wrapped around her purse for support as her stomach continued to ache and throb, she managed to clear her vision just long enough to where the blurry shapes and colors began to solidify into something she recognized.

Or rather, a human. A _someone_.

"What the fuck…?" Renee whispered hoarsely, not even bothering to mind her language anymore, and looked towards the new arrival with widened, almost fearful eyes.

_Oh shit_.. _.Good Lord in Heaven, spare me._

The first thing Renee noticed about the man standing in front of her was the Stranger's hair. Thick, dark brown in color and luscious, cascaded down to the tips of his shoulders, his gray eyes framed by graceful brows.

His skin was pale. He had prominent cheekbones and a well-defined chin and nose. Muscles rippled across every part of the man's torso. He obviously took pride in his appearance and took care of himself.

_Just like John…_

She had never before seen a guy with defined features such as these, but she knew without a doubt what it was. What _he_ was.

A _murderer_.

He just freaking _had_ to be! No guy could be this handsome and not be a pervert or a mass-murderer or something!

_Ooh, what if he's the Morning Killer_? Renee thought, letting out a tiny squeak of fear.

His eyes narrowed as his cold gaze took in Renee's appearance, and the man standing in front of her with the strange stick pointed at her chest frowned.

His dark hair dusted along a strong jawline, his chin, which framed his slender face in such a way that almost proved to be…handsome.

Though it was the man's eyes that caught Renee Barreau's attention the most. It had been too dark in the kitchen to get a good look at the man's eyes before, but his eyes were _seriously_ gray.

Almost sickeningly gray, like eyes-after-the-storm-at-sea gray. However, within the man's darkening cerulean orbs was a smoldering, fathomless rage that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface, and Renee felt another swell of nausea wrack her entire body.

The anger in the man's eyes and on his face was so torrent, that it felt as though the two of them were about to near the edge of a cliff and jump off together.

That's what it felt like to Renee right now.

The Stranger's eyes told her everything about this creature that the young witch needed to know. They weren't at all expressive, they were cold as ice. When Renee peered into the man's frozen irises, she felt an electrical chill of fear travel down her spine, making her features numb, like frozen ice, unable to move.

She knew what this asshole was, how he behaved here in this strange place. That this was a being who yielded to no one, except himself. A young man, though older than her, both assertive, strong-willed, and temperamental.

And she would be lying to herself if she did not admit that the guy's unfriendly eyes burning bright with rage scared her.

"Wh—what? I—who….?" She started to ask, but never had the chance to finish. The dark-haired man moved at lightning speed to close off the gap of space between them, and she could swear she heard the sound of a gun being cocked and loaded as it was pulled from the man's crimson jacket pocket, though she was wrong. It was a knife.

" _Fuck_." The curse tumbled unchecked from Renee's trash mouth before she could stop it. " _Look_ , buddy, you—you _don't_ want to do this!" she pleaded, though Renee felt the knife being pointed at the pale column of her throat before she saw it, and she looked into the listless eyes of the wielder.

Eyes that were filled to the brim with a burning animosity, bitterness, and hatred. For all she knew of her location, which was admittedly very little, she could have landed up _anywhere_ in England.

But where the hell _was_ here for her? And what the hell happened to that crazy lady who'd told her to jump into the trash can in the _first_ place?

Renee could feel the panic beginning to mount rapidly in her heart as she thrashed against the man's ironclad grip, clawing at the guy's calloused hand that held the blade and was effectively holding her throat hostage. Renee grunted with the effort to push the man's strong appendage away from her, and this only further angered him further. The Stranger hovering over top of her let out a low warning growl and reached out with his opposite free hand and seized her already injured shoulder into the now-ruined wood of the table, and Renee let out a whimper as the wood of the table dug sharp splinters into her back.

Pain flared from the injured joint as fire, and she didn't even both to try to stop the frightened mewling of pain at his brute force.

" _Death Eater_ ," the man growled, almost whispering it roughly, his voice sounding rough and grating, like the sound of a wooden crate being scraped alongside a cobblestone street, "You are _trespassing_ here…."

Renee felt a panic swell in her chest stronger as she struggled in vain to breathe, feeling like her throat was hollowing and constricting.

"Ngh…please…can't…breathe," she begged pitifully. "I…please…"

But the dark-haired man was turning a deaf ear to Renee's pleas and growled. " _Who_. _Are_. _You_? How did you find out our location, _witch_?"

The man, who had leaned in and his face now merely inches from hers, growled his question harshly, his deep baritone voice rumbling in anger.

Renee could feel her lips part open slightly to speak, but all that came out was a strangled attempt at speech. She couldn't respond. No. Scratch that. She was too _terrified_ to even _think_ about responding, much less form a coherent thought in her mind.

The man's eyes burning bright with anger with alight with such a horrible rage, a wave of burning anger, that she felt her back instinctively press against the broken wood of the kitchen table she'd fallen on top of, and winced as she felt a back muscle crack and pull.

Ouch. She'd be feeling that a little bit later, she was bloody sure of it! Renee flinched as the handsome man's lips curled into a fierce snarl. This asshole looked as if it meant to kill her.

_Wait a second_. _Kill_ her?!

Renee let her eyes widen as they flung wide open and her pupils dilate, even here in the dimly lit kitchen of…wherever _here_ was. Instinct took over as she felt a powerful wave of adrenaline surge through her veins, igniting her bloodstream as an overwhelming need to survive and do whatever she could to stay alive and protect herself took over, and she kicked out with her feet as hard as she could, the heel of her black boot kicking the guy square in his burly, slightly hairy chest.

The dark-haired man fought like a wild rabid dog to maintain his vice-like grip on her shoulder, but Renee was growling and snarling like a savage dog herself, in no condition whatsoever to be reasoned with.

She was past the point of no return. Renee had _had_ it up to _here_ with asshole guys pointing knives at her throats, John's _bullshit_ , crazy women screaming at her to jump into _trash_ _cans_ , claiming it was for her own safety.

Renee let out an animalistic snarl, baring her own teeth as she latched both of her fingers around the strong man's wrist that still held the knife to her throat and clawed at the weapon out of a sense of desperation, digging her long, purple-painted nails as deep into his skin as she possibly could.

Not that it amounted to much.

The man merely grunted at the effort, but she didn't give a damn. The only thing right now that mattered to Renee was saving her own skin, doing whatever she could to get the hell out of here.

Renee growled as she shot out her right leg again, and the second time was the charm, as the heel of her boot caught the man in the face. She winced as she felt his nose give under the pressure from the sheer strength and force of the kick she had laid out, heard the crack.

Her body was jolting with new vigor, an untapped rage that was boiling from the pit of her stomach to the rest of her body. She felt hot.

She didn't even notice her fists were clenching until blood came back on them. She was too busy staring at the handsome dark-haired stranger with the smoldering eyes that were dagger eyes, who was now roaring and snarling like an enraged lion, though no lion was this—this _creep_!

Out of the corner of her eye, something silver and metallic slipped from the man's grasp and fell to the kitchen floor under the wooden table as he grasped, wildly clawing at his now-broken nose, both of his nostrils wildly gushing crimson liquid, bellowing like an enraged bull.

The dark-haired stranger let out a guttural growl that sounded like a dog bark, and Renee breathed a sigh of barely audible relief as the weight of the man's hand on her bruised shoulder was gone. Thank God!

She was _free_! Renee took advantage of the opportunity and bolted, turning on the heel of her boot, clutching at the straps of her black purse, and practically skidded to a halt and let out a squeak of fear.

Renee could have sworn she heard angry shouting and yells coming from all around her, from all corners of this kitchen's clearing.

Oh, Good Lord Almighty Above, help her, there were _MORE_ of them? More people?! _Of course, there are, Renee, don't be stupid! They mean to kill you!_ She scolded herself and swore under her breath as her mind continuously screamed at her to get away. Poor Renee did the only thing she could think of to save her life.

She ran.


	6. Chapter 6

Albus Dumbledore scrutinized Sirius Black's broken nose with an inquisitive eye and let out a tired sigh.

"A true _mess_ you have made for yourself, Black," he stated curtly, clasping his hands in front of his set of pristine gray robes before reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his slightly crooked nose with his thumb and forefinger, surveying Sirius's bleeding nose over the rims of his silver half-moon spectacles. "A splendid show _indeed_. I'm sure the poor young woman is but running herself into hysterics right about now, and it's entirely _your_ fault. If you'd not been so _reactionary_ …"

The old wizard's slightly warbling voice trailed off and he glanced upward at the ceiling, furrowing his graying brows into a light frown, no doubt he too was puzzling over the sudden turn of events the conclusion of their latest Order meeting had taken.

Sirius bristled and shot the old, ancient wizard and found of the Order of the Phoenix a truly withering look, just as Remus standing next to him sighed, waving his wand and procuring a handkerchief out of thin air, though he couldn't quite manage the look of wrath that he was going for while still clutching onto his bleeding nose. His nose had been mended, the bones snapped back into place with one swift wave of Arthur Weasley's wand, though the now re-set bones still ached and throbbed. A bloody, broken _nose_! And given to him by the Muggle method of dueling, by a girl no less! He couldn't remember the last time he'd suffered from a broken nose.

The most recent time he could recall was during a row with Regulus, shortly before his brother's disappearance and the two of them had lost their tempers. Whatever the pair of brothers had argued over, it had resulted in a broken nose on Sirius's part, and Regulus had wound up with one hell of a shiner of a black eye, his right, and a bloodied, swollen bottom lip, and both boys had been on the receiving end of their lovely mum's temper, and the two had been forced to endure her shouting at them for a solid half an hour before she would even agree to calm down and heal them.

Sirius drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs as he dabbed at the blood with the kerchief, ignoring Moony as Lupin moved to set his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm down the worst of his temper, prevent his friend from doing anything too rash.

"You—I—I didn't see _you_ make an effort to question this Death Eater, Albus!" he spat, ignoring Moony's withering look that Remus shot him for his tone. Sirius felt his face blanch as what little color was left in his ashen face drained as the Hogwarts Headmaster slowly rose to his feet, though each step caused him great paints, his arthritis in his hand was flaring up, and there was the matter of his blackened hand, that cursed appendage, of which Severus believed there was no cure in containing. Eventually, Albus's mistake of putting on that old ring would cost him his life, acting like a slowly spreading poison throughout his entire fragile, frail old body.

Albus Dumbledore's cobalt blue orbs darkened and flashed, almost cerulean in color as he regarded Sirius and Remus both over the rims of his spectacles and pinched at the bridge of his nose again with his thumb and forefinger, as though fighting off a splitting headache.

"That is because I do not _believe_ the young creature that fell from your kitchen ceiling not even a moment ago to be a Death Eater, Black. Use your head. _Think_ about it for a moment. If this young woman _were_ a Death Eater, would not her first inclination of dealing with Headquarters have been to attack you, Remus, and Arthur, the very moment that the young woman saw you attempting to corner her? The fact that she did not speaks to the girl's character, which suggests to me that she is not, as you believe, Sirius, a Death Eater. No. I think what we are dealing with here, gentlemen, is very clearly a frightened individual that we now, thanks to _you_ , must seek out and attempt to calm her down before she does something _foolish_ and hurts herself. She is an intruder upon Headquarters _and_ in your home, _yes_ , Mr. Black, of that there is no denying," Dumbledore confessed, pinching at the front of his temples, sounding tired. "However, there are… _other_ methods in dealing with an intruder and questioning them, rather than simply holding her throat hostage by the tip of your own wand."

Professor Dumbledore sighed in disappointment and shook his head at all three of them, as though he had expected better of Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Weasley in how this unexpected matter was handled by the three fully grown adult wizards, before lifting his chin and shooting Lupin, who was, by all accounts and appearances, not the least bit guilty, a stern and admonishing expression that caused Remus to shirk away.

It became evident to Sirius and Arthur as they watched the silent exchange between the old man and the younger, that Albus had been hoping that Remus would have been the one to attempt to calm down his best friend from his current state of ire.

Sirius bit the inside wall of his cheek and watched as poor Moony's already pale face paled a shade further, rendering him a pallid look, like that of a walking Inferi.

Though Remus, for his credit, did not back down from the aging wizard's uncharacteristically cold stare, and instead merely proceeded to stand a little taller, straighter, and rounded on the heel of his boot, choosing to address Mr. Weasley.

"We _need_ to find her, Arthur. I don't think she's left Headquarters, we would have heard the door," Remus murmured, gesturing towards the hallway that led out into the living room parlor and the front entryway with a curt jerk of his head. "I don't want her hurting herself. Perhaps she was Apparating or traveling by Portkey and missed her destination and wound up here," he attempted to reason, his gaze flitting between Sirius and Professor Dumbledore and Arthur. "Either way, we won't know how she landed up here or why she's here unless we can find her, and I _don't_ want her frightened any more than she already is. I don't think we should use magic to find her."

" _What_?!" Sirius bellowed, stammering, and sputtering as he attempted to think of a retort to Moony's ridiculous plan. He balled the now soiled and blooded handkerchief into a crumpled ball and chucked it onto the ground at his boots, ignoring Arthur's look of disgust as the ginger-haired patriarch of the Weasley family waved his wand at it and murmured, " _Evanesco_!" causing the ruined handkerchief to vanish into thin air.

Sirius ignored the withering look that Moony shot him as he reached up a hand and wiped away at the last of the blood that trickled its way down his nose, still struggling to think of a way to violently protest this plan.

"You—she—the _witch_ could be anywhere!" he growled, spreading his arms out in front of him to gesture towards the massiveness of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. "And you, what, want us to play a little game of hide and seek to try to find this witch? That could take hours, Moony! What if she's long gone by that point?" he snarled, the edges of his lips curling upward.

"I hate to admit it, Remus, but he _does_ have a point," Arthur piped up in an attempt to diffuse the rapidly swelling tension between the two friends and Dumbledore, who was looking more and more thoroughly annoyed by Sirius's reluctance to cooperate while they dealt with the little matter of this intruder. Mr. Weasley swallowed nervously and his light brown eyes drifted towards Dumbledore, whose face, hidden behind his thick beard, was currently hard to decipher, though when the Professor spoke to them all just now, the hint of annoyance in the old man's clipped and hardened tone was unmistakable. It was clear Albus wanted this girl _found_.

"Though what happens if the Death Eater tries to attack us again? When then, Dumbledore? You would, what, just have Moony, Arthur, and I stand back and let it happen?" Sirius demanded hotly. "Just _how_ do you expect us to calm this witch down to interrogate her without the use of our wands?" he growled, his gaze flitting back towards Albus.

Albus Dumbledore was an ancient, wizened wizard who did not appreciate having things demanded of him, and promptly closed his eyes in exasperation and pinching at his temples for what had to be a third time in the span of fewer than five minutes before opening them again and addressing Sirius and Sirius alone, fixing his piercing blue eyes, currently, glacier cold, on Black, whose only indication that he was growing uncomfortable with the Hogwarts' Headmaster's scrutiny of him was that a muscle in both his jaw and behind his eyelid gave a little twitch, though he offered no verbal retort.

When at last, Professor Dumbledore did manage to find his voice, it had hardened beyond the point of recognition and laced throughout the wizened old wizard's tone was immense exasperation and a strange tinge of melancholia and ire.

"Sirius, I believe you may stop referring to the young lady as a Death Eater. She is clearly not. Whether or not she is a witch or Muggle or even a Squib remains to be seen, but we will not know for certain until we are able to question her and to do that, first we must attempt to locate the young woman and calm her down before she does irreparable damage to herself. I am sure the poor thing must be feeling quite confused. Were _I_ in her shoes, I feel that I would be, so I can only imagine what sort of things might be flitting through her mind at this point in time. I consider myself to be quite an excellent judge of character and need I point out, Black, that she did not attack prior to your attack first after she herself had been, thanks to a relatively poor judgment call on your part," Albus sighed, a look of utter exasperation on his wrinkled, lined face. "And you would be wise, Mr. Black, not to demand an answer of me that I cannot at this point in time, honestly give. I do not know what this young woman's intentions are, or the purpose of her unexpected and quite frankly, unorthodox arrival through your ceiling, Sirius, but I do believe it of utmost importance that we find her. Though I think perhaps this particular situation might require a more delicate touch, and it is my firm belief that if _you_ lead the search, Sirius."

Here, Dumbledore fixed Sirius with an unusually stern look that for a moment caused poor Padfoot to feel immense discomfort, and he was tempted to turn away, "then you will only frighten the girl more. I think that you two, and perhaps Miss Granger if she is of willing to provide her assistance in locating this intruder, might prove much more successful," he added, his cobalt blue eyes twinkling with a rejuvenated sense of merriment as Hermione Granger poked her head in through the doorway with furrowed brows, wand out at the ready.

The young witch at age seventeen did not look it, as she sauntered into the kitchen, wand tucked away in the back pocket of her jeans as she brushed the palms of her hands on the seat of her jeans and straightened her black and pink floral blouse.

Hermione Jean Granger walked with the confidence and posture of someone a decade older, and certainly had the smarts to prove it, and was a valuable asset to the Order of the Phoenix. It did not take Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore long to catch Hermione up to speed, and she quickly nodded and agreed to help. Anything she could do, she would. Dumbledore coughed once to clear his throat and folded his hands together, and he flinched at the stiffness and pains in his arthritic joints, not to mention the hand where he had put on the ring, unaware at the time, that it had been a Horcrux, crusted and made a sickening flaking sound that caused everyone in the vicinity to shirk away.

"Nothing for you all to worry about, you need not trouble yourself over an old man's affairs," Professor Dumbledore stated airily, and brushed away their concerns as the lot of them gathered around the table and waited for the Order's founder to give them further instructions to locate this mysterious She-Stranger, this intruder. "It is imperative we find this young woman. Miss Granger, I think perhaps it would be best if you were to search the upstairs rooms with Arthur. Remus, you'll look downstairs. And Sirius, you will, naturally, wait with me here in the kitchen. I think that if the young woman were to see you at this point in time, given that you just attempted to hold her throat hostage with her wand, you will only succeed in stressing the poor thing even further, and I _don't_ want to frighten her anymore."

Hermione scrunched her nose and pulled a face, no she offered up no verbal quip, proceeding instead to bite down on the wall of her cheek and run her tongue along the top wall of her cheek. Professor Dumbledore shot the young witch what Hermione suspected to be a sympathetic and yet at the same time appreciative gesture, silently trying to thank the young witch for her contributions towards locating the young blonde Stranger who had fallen from the ceiling of Sirius's parents' kitchen tonight.

The entire rest of the Order of the Phoenix, and anyone else who cared to know, knew that Hermione Granger did not have to be here, though it was at great personal risk and sacrificing of her own comfort that the young witch was here tonight, of her own volition, giving the ugly nature of her recent, nasty breakup with Ron Weasley.

And to make matters even more awkward for the Weasleys and everyone else who knew the famous trio by now, it was even worse for poor Ron who had to suffer through his ex-girlfriend now dating Harry Potter himself. Hermione had never really loved Ron. She supposed she could have loved him…if only Ron had been kinder.

He took far more than he ever gave her. And while Hermione considered herself okay with giving a lot, Ron, on the other hand, had become over the years so entitled to it that the most Hermione could ever do in the short time the two of them had been together was the minimum that Ron would accept…and even then, Ron was always quick to bite her often and look down on everything that Hermione was ever good at.

Even now, during Order meetings and the dinners that followed, Hermione could see the blame in Ronald Weasley's eyes, the disgust multiplying at her for choosing Harry over him. Anything but facing the true reason for his pains: that Ron was an ass.

It was straight from the cold-fish-playbook-101… to make his victim (Hermione) a villain as fast as possible, often with a simplistic, moralistic argument that considered none of the emotional capital. Ronald Billius Weasley was a relationship vampire.

And Hermione was _done_ being drained. _So_ done.

Ron could take his pretentious attitude and shove it; Hermione didn't care anymore. Hermione invented every excuse for staying. She got pretty creative over time like the days of their relationship dragged on. But Ron kept giving Hermione every reason to leave. And still, she tried to ignore them, like a lovesick fool, like a Potions addict dying from a lethal overdose. It seemed like it, those days. Even if she died, if she let Ron kill her, she'd still make an apology.

Hermione ground her teeth in anger, her eyes glazing over as she thought over that fateful day when their relationship had imploded, and Hermione had ended things.

She could still hear his words ringing in her eardrums. "Hermione, I love you. How can you _do_ this? What—what did I do wrong? How can you be such a _witch_?"

Ron had kept his eyes steady, resting on her face like they were home, but just briefly, the sorrow with the ginger-haired young man's was already rapidly building.

Hermione had remained rooted to the spot, the breeze moving her brown curly hair softly away from the cheekbones that had become so much more prominent over the previous weeks following the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts, as the rest of the wizarding world of Great Britain struggled to put the pieces of their lives and community back together. Her features had buckled just slightly before she spoke.

The only betrayal of her grief. "You say that like it means anything, Ron. You don't even know what _love_ is! You—you aren't _capable_ of it, Ronald Weasley! There was a time when I took _torture_ for you, to protect you and Harry, remember? Yet, you gave me up as soon as there was a threat to your own life. You've hidden behind me for _years_! That isn't _love_ , Ron. Or at least not a version of it I can respect," she'd sniffed, folding her arms across her chest, and turning away from Ron, stomping her foot. "It's what I did for you so many times, and you've given _nothing_ back to me in return."

When at last Hermione had turned to face Ron, her face was paler than Ron ever recalled it being, as if her very blood was shrinking away from his presence, her lips almost ghostly despite the warm sun of the mid-May afternoon by the Whomping Willow. Ron broke his gaze, preferring instead to rest his eyes on the Black Lake.

Then he spoke with the same voice he reserved whenever Harry was getting under his skin or Draco Malfoy. "You don't know how it was, Hermione. You—you just like to judge me! Have you _any_ idea what I did for you? _Any_ idea at all, Granger?"

Then Ron turned back to Hermione, his face set like an adversary, eyes cold, muscles tense. Hermione broke a little more inside—the pieces now becoming shards.

For in that moment, Hermione had seen Ron Weasley's inner monster lock onto her, the part of him that made him such an _ass_ , and she knew love to Ron was just another kind of possession. No possession, no love, and as she walked away, no _her_.

It wasn't too long after that that she had gotten together with Harry, and things between the two of them just…clicked. It felt… _right_. _True_. Like what she _should_ have had with Ron if Ron had actually cared about her, and Ginny had broken up with Harry and was now dating a former Gryffindor classmate of theirs, Cormac McLaggen, much to Hermione's disdain, though thankfully, the boorish _oaf_ never stayed for dinner at Headquarters following Order meetings, now that Hermione, Harry, and Ron, were both inducted into the Order following the Battle of Hogwarts and Voldemort's death.

Hermione blinked, forcing her attention to return back to the present reality of their current situation at hand, which was to find this mysterious She-Stranger who had supposedly fallen from the ceiling of the kitchen and onto the wooden table's surface.

And was somewhere within Grimmauld Place, in hiding, no doubt scared out of her mind. If she were a Squib or a Muggle, she'd be even more terrified and not knowing what in Merlin's Beard was going on, or what was going to happen to her.

Sirius was barking commands at Remus and Arthur, while Professor Dumbledore was resting against the back of his chair that he was seated in, a look of intermingled amusement and concern laced upon Albus's tired, lined, and weathered features.

Hermione's gaze flitted towards Sirius, and she could tell by the anger burning bright in Harry's godfather's gray eyes that the man and former prisoner of Azkaban had enough self-humiliation for one night and he was _not_ going to tolerate any more of it.

This intruder, this blonde She-Stranger, whoever she was, was going to pay for it, if Sirius had this way, though one glance at the darkening annoyance in Albus Dumbledore's piercing blue orbs suggested to the young brunette otherwise, that he would let no harm come to her, and it was this deduction that allowed her to relax.

"Find the girl," Sirius barked, ordering the three of them like he ran this place, which Hermione supposed, as she watched with knitted brows in confusion, he did.

This _was_ his house, after all, like it or not. She blinked and forced herself to pay attention, given Sirius wasn't quite finished speaking yet. His deep baritone voice cut through the air like a jinx, and Sirius was still fuming as he pulled up an unoccupied chair and straddled it backward as he sat on it.

"The sooner we sort out this bloody mess the better. I want to know _who_ that girl is and _why_ she fell through my ceiling."

Hermione exchanged a brief but curt look with Remus and Arthur, and without any further delay to an already precarious situation, the three of them separated with the intent to divide and conquer in the hopes of cutting off any escape routes this blonde girl might have used in order to attempt to leave, though Grimmauld Place could be a maze and could easily disorient you if you didn't know its arrangements well enough.

She was only half listening as Arthur engaged her in conversation about the functionality of trains underground, given that her parents were Muggles as the pair of them slowly ascended the stairwell that led to the second flight of the old Muggle townhouse. Hermione's mind was focused solely on the mission of finding this girl.

There was very little chance of her escaping with three incredibly talented magical people on the hunt for her. At least, if the girl didn't attempt to break their noses first.

Hermione allowed the faintest ghost of a smirk to flit across her pale features, already knowing that she and Mr. Weasley would be the ones to find this young woman up here somewhere.

She just knew it.

* * *

_Nothing_ to Renee was familiar, and the young woman could feel herself beginning to bloody fucking panic. In this strange place that was more like a labyrinth or a maze than a bloody house, there was no way for poor Renee Barreau to know which direction to go. Everywhere Renee turned, somehow, she saw only herself.

She ran her hands over the chipped and peeling wallpaper of the walls in an effort to steady herself until she came upon a door and found it unlocked as if just by touching something real, the young woman could succeed in keeping her mind grounded and calm. It might be her only way out of this mess, to keep a level head.

But it was really _fucking_ hard, considering she couldn't even keep track of her own damn direction!

This damn house felt like being in an endless tunnel with no way out! Anxiety and fear rocked her to her core, coming for poor Renee in unrelenting and unceasing waves, and it felt to her like there was no time it would stop anytime soon.

What she felt was an endless cycle that repeated itself on a loop, like her favorite song stuck on repeat, over and over again, causing the very blood within her veins to quicken and then simultaneously slow down in sudden bursts, pulsating in her veins.

She was positive this kind of thing wasn't bloody normal, and if this kept up, she was going to have a heart attack! _Could a person actually die of fear_? She wondered.

Almost immediately, Renee scolded herself for thinking such a thing and shook her head to clear her mind.

_Of course, they can fucking die of fear, Barreau! Just look at the string of victims this creepy Morning Killer guy has left behind! No signs of blood or torture or anything! The only thing they have in common is a terrifying fucking look on their faces! OF COURSE, you can die from fear, and you'll be next if you don't hide_!

Adrenaline flooded the young blonde's system. It pumped and beat like she was trying to escape as she reached towards the doorknob and twisted it open, flinging the door open wide enough to allow her enough room to squeeze inside while trying to be quiet, her nervous, skittish eyes wildly glancing throughout the storage room for a place to hide.

After she tried behind a pair of twin bookshelves, an old armoire, and even a closet that she almost couldn't close back behind her due to the damn space being so clogged with shit and piles of useless junk that almost toppled to the ground the second she opened the door, she spotted behind what appeared to be an old wine barrel and thought that sufficient and pulled it out enough to where she knelt into a low crouch.

Not even five seconds had passed after she had gotten herself situated to the point where she felt sure, she was _sure_ , yes, that she wouldn't be found, at least not right away, that it occurred to Renee that she was thirsty, and she'd never truly been thirsty before. Given that she was a co-manager of the little train stop café that she helped run and keep in business, drinks were always available and tended to arrive before she knew she wanted one.

They were sparkling, cool, and flavored, the ice jangled and enticed her to drink. Never once had she drank to quench her discomfort. But now just plain water would be a Godsend. The urge to drink dominated her thoughts. She should stay hidden, that dark-haired Stranger with the wooden knife was out there, but the sensation was quite unbearable. She stayed hidden behind the old wine barrels.

This was _not_ a time for noise, even if it meant suffering her thirst in silence. To tamper down the urge to break down into tears and muffle the half-choked sob that threatened to escape from the confines of her chest, throat, and lips, Renee buried her head in her knees and inhaled the sharp but strangely comforting scent of her clothes.

It was pretty much the only familiar thing to the young woman at this stage in this little game of hide-and-seek from the very people who meant to fucking _murder_ her!

_What if that guy's the Morning Killer_? Renee thought, blinking back tears. The young woman inhaled a shaking breath and swallowed down hard past the lump in her throat, trying to make the sound of her panicked, frantic breaths as quiet as possible.

Even though Renee knew she'd picked one hell of a damn good hiding spot, and if her kid brother Billy were here, the boy would never be able to find her, it wasn't exactly going to succeed at making her totally sound-proof. Even just the slightest movement or twitch from her was enough to make the rickety old wooden floorboards of this room beneath her boots creak, thereby giving away her position to the Stranger.

Renee squeezed her eyes tightly shut, shooting a silent prayer to God above that He would protect her _if_ there was a God up there to listen to her pleas for help.

She clenched her teeth in nervous anticipation, almost wishing that one of the Strangers from the kitchens with the strange knives would just…burst through the bloody door and find her already and end this damn little game of hide and seek.

Though, she could not shake the feeling of dread that tingled down her spine, numbing her body. Renee knew that, in the end, sooner rather than later, the people downstairs in the kitchens would come looking for her. They'd figure out that she hadn't left. And then they would find her, and after that, who knew what would happen? But first, they had to find her.

Renee could only hope that it would be sooner rather than later.


	7. Chapter 7

Tonks swallowed down hard past the growing lump in her throat and forced herself to just _breathe_ , with a shaking exhale that signaled her nervousness, and blinking back briny tears as Tonks looked around the room at her brand-new surroundings. The young witch was sorely tempted to burst into tears as her mind struggled to process the harsh, cold reality of her new situation.

That this place was to be her new _home_ for at least the next two weeks, possibly longer that if things didn't go according to her plan. Tonks drew in a sharp breath of frigid cold air and craned her neck upward.

Though she couldn't see them, she knew the Dementors still guarded the outside of the fortress's walls. It solely depended on how long it took Remus and Moody and that blonde Muggle girl, Renee Barreau, to help prove her innocence and send her home.

She recollected what Umbridge had said about the ethics of pulling both her and Miss Barreau's memories to present to the full Wizengamot for a trial as evidence, how it would only work with both her _and_ the girl's memories. She bit the wall of her cheek and glanced around the unfamiliar room with nervous, skittish eyes. Tonks had been led inside Azkaban Prison by Kingsley Shacklebolt, practically slow and silent.

The air inside was different, and for a moment, Tonks was unable to put her finger on exactly why. Then it occurred to her. The smell of sweat and other people was gone. There was no sound of people. Nothing but the eerie silence. But that wasn't even the worst of it. This place was just walls, walls, and giant empty rooms, other cells.

Here, Tonks could feel the icy grip of Death wrap its chilled, snakelike tendrils around the column of her pale throat like poison ivy tended to wind its way around a stone pillar, and she could feel it squeeze, and suddenly, Tonks felt really lightheaded.

The lights flicked up ahead. In the distance, the faint sound of water dripping from an old dingy drainpipe splashed into a puddle on the floor. In the gloom, all Tonks could make out were the four iron-barred windows that were about to lock her in. In the water dripping silence, Tonks stood her back against the cold stone walls.

Waiting. Her stomach grumbled, echoing round and round the chamber walls until it faded into nothing. In the effort to stop the pain and stay silent, the young witch grasped onto her stomach, only to feel the familiar feeling of her bones underneath, crushed underneath her tight skin. Tonks ground her teeth in nervous, skittish fear.

The prison cell—her new home—was barely six feet by four. _Home_. Tonks swallowed nervously and blinked back a fresh onset of tears. This…this was _not_ her home. Home was her and Remus's little cottage in Wales. Home was in Lupin's arms, where she rightfully belonged. Home was wherever Rem and baby Teddy were.

But this? This was _not_ her home! The walls were the same thick gray stone as the dwellings of the rest of Azkaban Prison itself, but instead of a wide window with a flower box, there was a mean barred opening with thick metal bars and no glass.

In the summer, Kingsley, in an attempt to joke around and make light conversation while they waited for Tonks to be processed into Azkaban's registry, the fresher air here was said to be a relief, with the salty sea breeze, hoping to alleviate the stench of festering sewage and other things, but in the colder seasons, it let in a wicked draft and reduced the bloody temperature inside the prisoners' cells to near freezing.

Even inside, it was no brighter inside than the gathering gloom of dusk. The bed was pretty much a plank of wood on legs with a hard-looking uncomfortable mattress that didn't look welcoming or warm at all, with scratchy woolen blankets.

It was suffocatingly quiet. Tonks couldn't bear it. Tonks glanced to the left and right of her new room and blinked back tears, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

She couldn't believe this was happening to her! She was innocent! She wasn't the bloody Morning Killer and Kingsley and everybody at the Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic knew this! Everybody _trustworthy_ that was, and who wasn't in Umbridge's pocket, or whoever happened to be behind this vicious framing of her.

Tonks knew she wasn't a bad person. Or at least, she didn't think she was, but that wasn't good enough for Umbridge, so she'd been sent here until her innocence could be proven.

According to one of the guards, a thin, sallow-looking man with a black mustache that was apparently his most infamous feature within these walls, the chance that she would be proven innocent wasn't very likely, though Tonks wondered if the creep was just saying to scare her, and she _wasn't_ about to admit that it worked, she wasn't allowed to leave (obviously).

Going forward, Tonks would have to follow a strict schedule and talk to a licensed counselor, some witch or wizard to 'talk her through her feelings and figure why she did it,' to which Tonks maintained innocence.

Though the guard had laughed her remark off and merely proceeded to jerk her forward by her arm. "That's what all they _all_ say, _witch_ ," he growled meanly, and he did not speak much to her again after that, though Tonks wasn't sure she liked the way she felt his eyes crawling all over her slender figure.

Never mind that he seemed to have noticed the plain yellow gold wedding ring she wore proudly on her left ring finger. They had, at _least_ , let her keep that, though Tonks had been forced to surrender her wand and her little black purse upon processing, where she had been informed both would be held safely for her pending her release from Azkaban Prison, where she would be granted re-possession of her wand.

Tonks had bristled, but she knew her only way out of this was to comply was to do what they told her and not make things any worse for herself. So, for better or worse, after coaxing from Kingsley, she'd relinquished control of her wand _and_ her bag, though she missed its warmth, holding her wand in her hands, twirling it. And as for her bag, her wallet was in there, and pictures of Rem and Teddy. She'd been hoping at a minimum, they would let her keep them with her.

But nope. No personals or valuables belonging in the cells, according to the guard, whose name was Henry, and under different circumstances, Tonks supposed she could have liked the guy well enough if his eyes weren't crawling all over her backside.

The witches in here all had to wear the same thing, so did the wizards. Tonks had been issued upon her arrival three plain gray t-shirts, three pairs of plain gray pants, gray flip flops so she wouldn't have to traipse through the prison completely barefoot.

Most of the clothing was way too big for her petite, tiny frame, and hung off of her, making her look like a waif who was starving herself and refusing to eat any food.

She was really dreading this. And she was scared out of her mind if she was being completely honest with herself.

_What Rem is going to think when he learns what happened. And Teddy! He's too young to understand, but…I need to be there for him. He's only two weeks old, for Merlin's sake_! Just this thought alone was enough to tamper down the walls of restraint she'd built around her currently fragile heart, and she could feel them starting to crack and crumble. She swallowed and forced her mind to think of something—of _anything_ —else. Anything but… _that_.

_I wonder if I'll meet anyone I know here_. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, and Tonks knew she'd be foolish to rule it out.

She'd put several welly-known Death Eaters into this very prison, and assuming most of them were still alive, would only be too delighted to have a shot at revenge against the Auror who'd ruined their lives, one of them being Lucius Malfoy, for his role as a well-known ranking member of Lord Voldemort's armies. His trial was rumored to be coming up soon if she remembered correctly.

Tonks bit down on the inside wall of her cheek and furrowed her brows. Tonks swallowed nervously, letting out a muffled, terrified squeak as the door to her cell creaked open and she whirled around on the heel of her foot, staring face-to-face with a She-Stranger, another witch.

"Good evening, Mrs. Lupin," the woman stated curtly by way of introduction, despite Tonks quirking a raised eyebrow in suspicious distrust towards her sudden, unannounced arrival. Without waiting for Tonks to reply, the brunette-haired witch with her hair pulled up into a severe-looking bun that would have made Professor McGonagall proud, continued. "My name is Miranda, I'm here to bring you up to speed."

Tonks nodded mutely, not sure what else to say, knowing that it would be within everyone's best interests and especially herself if she remained silent for now.

The young witch called Miranda launched into an explanation, and Tonks allowed her mind to wander and she spaced out during the brunette witch's explanation of Azkaban Prison and all of its rules for the prisoners that the facility housed, as though she had not seen Tonks before or knew of her name, which was preposterous, really. Though Tonks couldn't actually recall ever meeting Miranda, surely this one had to know who she was. One of the top well-respected Aurors in the whole department, almost as high as Kingsley.

It was rumored that when Minister Scrimgeour retired, Kingsley was next in line as a potential running mate in the new year elections.

The harsh bark of the other witch's stern tone cut through Tonks's thoughts, startling her, and causing her to jump, bringing her back down to the unpleasant reality of her current situation whether Tonks liked it or not. "You okay, Mrs. Lupin?" Miranda frowned, furrowing her brows into a frown, having noticed the younger witch's worried expression and drawn-together eyebrows and her skittish behavior.

"Mmm?" Tonks blinked owlishly at the prison worker and slowly swiveled her head back to the front to regard the stern-looking witch. "Oh, y—yes I'm fine," she stammered, swallowing down as she repressed the urge to burst into tears, blinking the salty unshed liquid back with a hard good hard blink. "Am I… _safe_ here, Miranda?" Her fear only intensified as she remembered the cold way that guard had looked at her, and she repressed the cold chill of fear as it went down her back.

"Quite safe," Miranda immediately replied by way of response with no semblance of hesitation on her part. Sensing that Tonks was yet to be convinced, she heaved a heavy sigh and slowly slid her glasses off her face, pinching at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "There's nothing you need to worry about, Mrs. Lupin. I was informed of your ah, shall we say, _unorthodox_ situation by Auror Shacklebolt. There's nothing you need to worry about. None of the other inmates are going to do anything to you. If they do, we shall deal with it swiftly, I can promise you that. Though you are relieved of your wands upon admittance, Azkaban does not tolerate violence, Mrs. Lupin." She peeked at Tonks over the rim of her silver glasses.

Tonks swallowed and offered a tiny nod. Miranda had probably meant for her statement to come across as reassuring, but it wasn't. Her words only invoked a cold sense of fear that threatened to engulf her entirely, or maybe that was the Dementors.

"Th—the Dementors, Miranda? Will they…?" Tonks managed to gasp out in a hoarse croak. But Miranda must have expected Tonks would ask of her such a question. Tonks suspected the witch probably got asked about those foul creatures a lot.

"If you do not give them any reason to harm you, they won't touch you."

Tonks let out a muted little whimper that escaped from the back of her throat before she could stop herself. She hated those foul, loathsome creatures that fed on every good feeling, every happy memory until a person was left with nothing save for the worst memories of all. And she already knew which ones she'd rather not relive. And how could she _possibly_ be expected to defend herself against a Dementor should she have the unfortunate experience of encountering one within these stone walls?

And then there was the matter of the other inmates. Other witches and wizards who probably wanted to harm her, once word would get around in this place that Auror Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin was within behind these bars just the same as she was. She wasn't entirely sure she believed this Miranda's words that the Dementors wouldn't harm her if given the opportunity, though Tonks was not about to argue with her.

Tonks blinked and forced herself to return to whatever Miranda was saying to her.

"In any case, your schedule is included here," Miranda murmured, waving her wand with a sharp rap, which caused Tonks to bristle at the injustice of all of this. She got to keep her wand, why wasn't she allowed hers? A small manilla packet appeared out of mid-air and Miranda promptly caught it before the envelope could drop to the floor. "Every prisoner sees our on-staff counselor a minimum of no more than twice a week. Based on your needs, we can adjust that as needed. If you're having a hard time adjusting to your time here while your little situation resolves itself, dear, you can see him every other day if you want to, Mrs. Lupin. His name's Everett, he's a nice man."

Tonks highly doubted that about the man, though she offered no verbal quip.

"For now, you'll visit with him every Saturday and Sunday, since this is your first night with us and you'll need a few days to transition into your new way of life here," she explained, her voice hardening. "If things go well the next week and week after that, you'll see Everett on Tuesdays and Fridays, Mrs. Lupin. And report to your job on time and report for your meals at the designated times. We don't serve our inmates late and we don't tolerate eating disorders. If you make it a routine habit of missing meals or skipping food, our staff takes notice of that and you'll be quarantined."

"My—my job?" Tonks asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

Miranda looked surprised. "Of course, dear. You're assigned a job during your stay here with us. Nothing too backbreaking or anything that will eat up most of your time. Typically a couple of hours a day, teaches you responsibility and I've found that most of our inmates prefer having something to do to keep their mind occupied from thinking about things they'd rather not," Miranda added, scrunching her nose a little.

Tonks nodded, knowing full well the older witch was thinking of the Dementors. "Do you pay the inmates for their time in doing these, ah, these jobs?"

Miranda shot her a knowing little smile and wagged her head, as though she had expected better. "A small compensation, yes. Nothing quite as substantial as what you made at your job in the Ministry, dear, but it's enough to live off of. We have a small shop on the lower floor, where you can purchase things like candy, soap, journals, books, magazines, Daily Prophet editions, that sort of thing for your leisure time."

Tonks, once again, shot her a nod as her brain slowly processed all of the information. "Visits are limited to twice a week, from your approved list of contacts unless there's an emergency. They won't be allowed inside your cell, but we have a lobby that acts as sort of a visitor's lounge. We send an owl to your requested contact ahead of time, at least three days in advance, asking them if they want to see you, dear."

For a moment, however fleeting it was, a brief spark of hope ignited within Tonks's chest. So, she _would_ get to see Remus and Teddy after all. Maybe…maybe while she waited for her husband and Moody to help get her out of this wretched place, it wasn't going to be so bad, provided she had no encounters with any Dementors….

Miranda opened her mouth, clearly about to say more, when the cell door creaked open and a new arrival, a young witch a few years older than Tonks, sauntered in, though she froze when she saw Tonks, her lips parted open slightly in shock.

"Who the hell is _this_ , Miranda? Is this my new _friend_?" this new she-stranger growled, with no semblance of warmth in her voice as she eyed Tonks's petite form.

Her gaze settled and lingered on Tonks's maroon-colored hair that cascaded in soft waves and layers to her shoulders, and Tonks felt a pink blush speckle along her cheeks as her supposedly new roommate met her gaze with a strange critical interest.

The new arrival had chocolate hair that rippled down to her breasts, a small, childlike face that suggested to the outside observer a sense of innocence but _spying_. The way her hip jutted out and her hands were resting on her hips and the scowl on her face gave off the impression that she was in one way, shape, or form, a lady.

At first, Tonks had almost mistaken this new witch for a younger version of her Aunt Bellatrix, who was dead now, but the girl lacked that little twinge of insanity.

"Yes, Cate," grumbled Miranda, who sounded annoyed as she responded to the new inmate's arrival, repressing the urge to roll her eyes as the girl strode past Miranda upon closing the cell door and clambering on top of the topmost bunk bed.

The older witch turned towards Tonks with an apprehensive look in her eyes and gestured to where Tonks was standing, stock-still and unstirred, though she could not seem to tear her gaze away from this new arrival, from Cate, and how she was eyeing her. "This is Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, who prefers to be known by her former surname or you may call her Dora. Dora, this is Cate Greengrass, dear."

"Just Cate," the young brunette witch barked from her perch on the top bunk, her belly resting against the firm-looking mattress, her head resting in her hands, legs swinging haphazardly in the air behind her as she regarded Tonks, as though she were eyeing a fascinating specimen in a zoo rather than her new roommate here in Azkaban.

Miranda frowned, turning her back on the pair of witches and waving her wand to release the containment spell so that she was free to step outside the barred door. "Be _nice_ to her, Cate. If you need anything, Mrs. Lupin, you know where my office is. First floor near the reception lobby, fourth door to the right. If Cate here gives you any trouble…" she started to say, shooting Cate Greengrass an admonishing look.

Cate blew out a puff of air with her cheeks and rolled her eyes. "Shan't." Cate waited until Miranda gave a curt but firm nod towards the pair of them and had left.

Tonks bit the inside wall of her cheek as she decided to take the lower bunk, which was pretty much the only option she had left available to her since Cate had top.

"How long have you been here?" Tonks asked numbly, in a vain effort to make conversation with the young witch who was to be her new roommate.

"A year." Though she couldn't see it, Tonks imagined Cate smirking, judging by the witch's tone of voice. "And I got two months left if I don't screw it up again."

Tonks grimaced. A whole _year_? She couldn't even imagine staying in this prison an entire _week_ , much less 365 days. Tonks sincerely hoped she wouldn't be staying here more than a week tops, but it really depended on Remus and Mad-Eye.

"What did you do?" she whispered, feeling her eyes grow wide and round as she glanced down at her hands in her lap and lovingly fidgeted with her wedding ring.

Cate made a noise that sounded like a snort, and before Tonks could fathom what was happening, she'd lowered her head over the edge of the bunk bed's mattress and was looking at Tonks upside down, her loose chocolate hair falling in front of her face and was regarding the younger witch with an incredulous look on her thin face.

"Potions, baby, it's _always_ the illegal potions," Cate sighed with a look of exasperation on her face as she sat back up on her mattress, removing herself from Tonks's view. "A couple of Aurors busted me on Knockturn Alley for trying to sell a couple of bottles of fake Felix Felicis," she said, sounding thoroughly put off and tired.

"Oh." Tonks stammered, not sure what else to say to that. If nothing else, at least she was grateful for her new roommate, Cate, who wasn't a mass murderer or child abuser.

"Who's your counselor?" Cate asked by way of a follow-up question, and Tonks was honestly surprised, and a little bit stunned she hadn't asked what Tonks had done. Though even if she were, to tell the truth, Tonks had a feeling she wouldn't be believed.

Like the guard had told her earlier, everyone in here believed they were innocent, though in her case, she actually, honest-to-Merlin really _was_ innocent!

"Um…I think Miranda said the wizard's name was Everett?" Tonks shrugged.

"Oh… _ew_ , you got Everett, huh?" Cate frowned. "Damn. Rotten luck, lady. He's kind of a perv. He tends to favor witches in this place with real pretty faces…."

Silence fell as Tonks felt a cold chill waft down her spine and her blood turn to ice in her veins. It was a thick, uncomfortable tension that lingered in the air between the two witches, and Tonks let out a sigh as Cate lowered her head down over the top bunk of the bed to look at her, and Tonks decided she didn't like how she stared at her.

Her eyes, cold emeralds, were masked with a smile but something inside chilled her bones, and Tonks had a feeling this had nothing to do with the Dementors.

She swore for a second, that she saw a strange tightening in Cate's left jaw. Was it hatred? Jealousy? Loathing? Either way and whatever her reason, Tonks found herself swallowing. Cate clucked her tongue and once again resumed her original position resting on the top bunk bed.

"Well. It's late and I'm sure you're really tired. I'll leave you to it. Oh… I almost forgot," Cate added slyly, as an afterthought and paused. Tonks sat on the edge of her bunk and waited, perceiving the other witch's hesitations, as if Cate never actually meant to say the final message.

Though Tonks could not see Cate's face, she could hear the other witch as she collapsed onto her mattress and heaved an exasperated sigh.

"You're so _pretty_. Mrs. Lupin. Everett's going to have a time with you. With a pretty little face like yours and that changing hair color of yours, you're gonna be one _popular_ witch in this place," she snorted in a tone that suggested minor amusement, with just a hint of malice, and Tonks's blood froze within her veins.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and turned her head to the right as she _swore_ she felt a Dementor waft by freely in front of their cell, and she cringed. Without second thoughts, she pushed thoughts of Cate, of her new roommate, aside for now.

Since she wasn't going to be in here that long, she had no interest in trying to make friends anymore, especially not with Cate judging her and thinking she was guilty.

Though the other witch hadn't come outright and said it, Tonks had perceived the animosity in Cate's green eyes, and Cate hadn't needed to say a single word to her.

Gaining back her sort of solitude felt like a victory, and Tonks collapsed back against the pillow of her new cot, drifting into consciousness and then back out again.

She hadn't realized just how tired, both physically and mentally she was until she rested her head against this surprisingly soft pillow. The prison cell around her was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly in the pool of her thoughts like they were being blown about by a vicious storm or something. A tap on her shoulder momentarily brought Tonks back to the outside world, but after a second, she was once again lost.

Tonks could feel Cate trying to look at her, staring her dead in the eye, but she just couldn't keep focus. She was too damned bloody _tired_. Confusion blossomed in her heart, and Tonks knew that sooner rather than later, she would need to wake up.

To stare at her new grim reality in the face and meet it head-on. But for now, Tonks laid down her heavy head and retreated into the wallowing blackness of her dreams. She wanted to think of Remus.

Of how the first time she met him, and before too long, a series of memories floated within her subconsciousness, and she focused on solely her husband and baby's sweet faces as she allowed herself to succumb to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

He had seen this prison door a few hundred times, and the Morning Killer had a feeling he was about to see it again, though he wanted desperately _not_ to. This damned door, rooting at the edges, termite-infested, its iron-hinges sprawled with thick rust.

The air around him was moist and smelled of decay. Of Death. Everything about this horrid place was just disgusting, though this time, he did not see himself standing in front of it, but rather, in it. Mere inches apart from the door where his son was kept.

The Morning Killer found his legs moving of their own accord, no longer taking directions from his mind to bolt and go the other direction, his green eyes wide and round, anticipating to take sight of the horror that awaited him beyond this damn door.

Until a familiar sight, a human eye met his behind the door. It was much too dark to make out the rest of the figure's silhouette. The eyes were as pinpricks in the dark.

Sad and angry at the same time, red-rimmed at the edges, the whites of the eyes wrestled with hair-thin veins, shadows below the rim, and the skin around it broke.

And that was when the Morning Killer awoke with his green eyes half-opened, mouth agape. He did scream nor cry out, but instead, he lifted his head rather sanguinely and groaned. The man blinked once, twice, to clear the sleep from his lids.

He'd left himself to fall asleep in the armchair of the old-fashioned living room parlor of his haunted little safe house, this accursed place with such a violent history.

The man grunted, forcing his otherwise immobile body to sit upright, though it felt like his legs had been hit with a full Body-Bind curse. He felt numb all over.

The Morning Killer felt the need to curse while forcing his heels and toes together in order to bring life back to his feet, swearing under his breath, "Merlin's saggy left testicle…" with every stretch until he forced himself to sit upright. He hated the bloody headaches that came after when he'd indulged in a little too much Fire Whiskey earlier.

It shook his brain and he was almost compelled to smash his skull against the wall as he shakily rose to his feet and blinked once, twice, three times, to get his bearings. The Morning Killer stood with groggy steps and carried him towards the window, nearing a pitcher of water which rested idly on a small wooden table by the open window, where he shot out an arm and took hold of it, splashing the water on his face.

The relief was indescribable and unimaginable for a moment, and the Morning Killer heard himself let out a tense little sigh through his nose as he felt the burning in his cheeks slowly subside. The little beads of water played alongside his growing beard.

And he remembered he'd not shaved in almost a fortnight. He sighed as he looked out the window, thinking of the witch. Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, his neck almost stinging with a mad heat at just the declaration of her name. He wondered what she was doing.

No doubt the Aurors at the Ministry had escorted the young witch to her cell in Azkaban, where he hoped to watch as the Dementors forced her to relive her very worst memories, until she could handle it no more and tore herself apart from the inside out. Ah, but Merlin's Light, he could not wait to be there to witness for himself.

He smiled, feeling the edges of his thin, wormy lips curl upwards into a twisted smirk. It was time to pay his precious little dove a call. He was long overdue for one.

The Morning Killer turned on the heel of his black leather boot as he gently closed his eyes, not even needing to think about where he wanted to go as he Disapparated.

He knew where he wanted to go. To see _her_.

* * *

The Morning Killer walked slowly, purposefully, his footfalls heavy and yet, somehow silent as he sauntered with ease through the corridor of Azkaban Prison's second floor until he found the Lupin man's wife's cell. She was alone. He sneered.

_Good_ , he thought meanly, biting the inside wall of his cheek. The Morning Killer did not know where the young woman's cellmate had gotten off to, nor did he care.

He wanted to witness this witch _alone_. He had wished for this moment since he'd left her alone, and had deeply regretted that he could not stick around to witness the _bitch_ being arrested for his own crime, the killing of that Muggle girl, and this truly was a sweet sight to behold. How _delightfully_ this was, to see the maroon-haired Auror sleeping in a cramped and foul-smelling cell in almost near-complete darkness, stripped of her wand, essentially powerless without, and completely and utterly at his whims.

Somewhere in the depths of the prison, in the section sequestered off for witches that separated the witches from the wizards, to prevent men and women from getting any ideas in their mind about fraternization (unplanned pregnancies were frowned upon for the witches here in the cells, though once in a blue moon, it was known to happen.)

The sea air that wafted in through the windows of the open bar of this fortress of old snaked around his thin form which not even his heavy black woolen robes could defend against such a bitter chill, and it made the Morning Killer almost seem like a shadow.

_Fitting_ , the man thought. He'd been living now as a specter for well over a year now. He took a moment to inhale the freshness that wafted in through the window by the waves of the ocean and tried his hardest to calm his racing heart, which pounded and thrummed against his chest like it was threatening to grow wings and escape from him.

The Morning Killer took a moment to look upon the young witch's still form. He had prayed to Merlin and His Light for welly over a year that he would find her.

_Tonks_. It had been nearly three years since he'd last looked upon her face, this witch, this young woman who had sent his own son to Azkaban Prison. A _mistake_.

The last time he had dared to lay eyes on this woman, he had left her alone crying in the night, and she did not even know who he was. Not really, though she had been getting much too close to figuring out who he was, and if Tonks knew the truth, she would be truly _freaking_. They all would be freaking, in the end, once they learned.

In time, they would. But not yet. Not until he was _ready_ for them to find out. It was said that all good things came to those who waited, and the Morning Killer considered himself a patient wizard and man, and what was waiting a little while longer?

He'd waited over three years for this moment, just to look upon her face again. He had prayed to Merlin above that Nymphadora Tonks would know what it meant to love, to find true love, as he had once been blessed to have. To know what it was like to care for another so wholly and completely, and then to feel like nothing, and to watch while he ripped her apart from all that she loved. From her family, her husband.

The _Wolf_. Just the fact that Tonks was married to a _werewolf_ plastered a quiet vibration under his skin, which had erupted into goosebumps that he suspected had nothing to do with the cold chill that the Dementors caused or that of the cold sea night air. The Morning Killer clenched his teeth in anger and fought back the urge to yell, which would undoubtedly wake up Tonks, and then she would scream upon finding him here, which would alert the guards of Azkaban, and he valued his secrecy.

To watch her in the shadows. He had separated her from all that she loved. From her son. Just as _he_ had been separated from _his_ , and the only logical conclusion in the Morning Killer's mind was to ensure she did not see him again.

As the Morning Killer stood just outside Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin's cell and watched the young witch sleep, seemingly peacefully, which floored the man and caused his mind to feel like it was reeling. How could the Auror possibly sleep _peacefully_ in a place like this of festering death, rotting wounds, and screaming?

Especially when the darkness of the witch's cell was so bloody thick, the sky outside Azkaban Prison so low and dark, the air so chilled that it hurt just to breathe.

The Morning Killer felt himself give an involuntary twitch as it was not the wind that wafted in through the open barred window of her cell that roused Nymphadora.

Her throbbing heartbeat, little more than a throbbing mass of corded muscle, beat relentlessly in the confines of her chest as it threatened to escape. Tonks let out a whine, almost so faint that her words were as wind and carried away with the cold night breeze as she curled in on herself, her fingers clutching over the light green scratchy woolen blanket, a pitiful attempt at warming herself, the only barrier between herself and the chill.

The Morning Killer cocked his head to the side, much like a stray dog whenever it found something curious and wasn't sure if it wanted to watch his prize or kill it.

A half-formed sob found its way to the young witch's lips, yet it seemed that her tongue was refusing its release, and she swallowed it back, though it did not stop her from crumpling, twisting, curling further in on itself on the bottom mattress of the bunk beds, burrowing underneath that old, tattered, and worn green wool blanket.

The Morning Killer felt his thick brows furrow into a slight frown as he watched her, thinking that it felt strangely quiet, though, given the lateness of the hour in which he'd arrived for this unexpected little visit, he supposed he ought not be _too_ surprised.

It was quiet in here, even more so than usual the last time that he had visited. There was something lurking in the shadows. An evil that no one saw because they were all too preoccupied with the unimportant mundane goings-on of their stupid useless lives to see. A monster that tormented people like this woman. Mrs. Lupin…

It sought out the weak and made itself a home inside of their heads, and he couldn't wait to dip into this witch's head and find out what secrets lay undiscovered.

Inside the Morning Killer's head, he could feel it, raging inside of him, like a Beast tugging violently at its iron-wrought chains, struggling to be free just under the surface. Just loud enough for the man to hear, but there was a door in between him and it. The Morning Killer had locked it in a room, tried to keep it away from him at all costs. But it was still there…tearing through the holes, trying to reach what was left of his sanity. His humanity, if he'd ever had any of it, to begin with, that was. _Had_ he?

He blinked, biting down on his bottom lip as he pondered this thought, and then he realized that he did not know. The Morning Killer knew it was only a matter of time before the monster within his head managed to break through the barriers.

It had been locked up for years, but the walls that the Morning Killer had put up between It and him were starting to collapse, to crumble. He didn't know how much longer he could keep that demon at bay before he truly lost control, and then _he'd_ be freaking…

And It knew that. The Morning Killer had looked in the mirror today before coming here to Azkaban, and saw it, staring straight back at him. Watching him through his green eyes. Seeing everything that he saw. It was waiting for him, then…

Hoping that he would let his guard down. Knowing that sooner or later, that fragile wall would crumble. Lately, it had been able to find ways to show itself. Ways to change itself. Ways to change him, and the Morning Killer wasn't sure he liked it.

As the seconds turned to minutes and the minutes became an hour as time passed, the monster began to look more and more like him than anything else, and it was then that he realized that he could lose everything. _Maybe that's why I came here_ , he mused.

To realize that his efforts were not in vain, that this bitch was behind bars, where he knew she rightfully belonged. He could only hope that soon, he'd have a chance to introduce himself, but for now, he was more than content to watch her in the shadows.

The man had been watching Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin for quite some time now, always waiting. Always watching. He caught sight of his reflection in a puddle of water that someone—probably one of the guards—had trekked in from on top of the roof.

He froze, momentarily haunted by the strange look in his eyes. For a brief second, just a fraction, he had convinced himself that maybe he had been a normal man, once.

Or could have been, had things worked out for him differently in this life. He liked to think that he had been. He pretended that he was for a while. A person with scars and bruises all over his body. Red trickly blood from his chosen victims running down his sides.

The very picture of misery reflected both inside and outside when he looked in the mirror and saw his own reflection staring back at him, a snake's head on a human body. He knew all too well what he was. A monster. A snake. A beast. A demon, oh, yes. The Morning Killer _knew_. His physical beauty was never that skin deep. He'd heard once that time healed all things.

But the Morning Killer never healed, or even became better, as a matter of fact. There was no point in him trying to deny what he was. He was a monster. His green eyes were better than any hawk. He lived in shadow for fear of the light, until his chosen victims were in reach, and then he snatched them away from the streets and prying eyes, doing with them what he liked.

His hair was done up nicely for this little impromptu visit to see Mrs. Lupin, he had some kind of oil mixed it to give a noticeable wavy form to his short dark strands.

His forehead was almost square, large, and imposing, but not laughably so. A few lines were laid upon it, but they were dismissive as tricks of the light. His eyebrows were impossibly straight, his eyes a rich forest green, eyes that told of many secrets, but held them in a lockbox so beautiful you would not dare to open it in fear of what you might find within, though the most striking feature of the Morning Killer's face was just how thin and hollow his sunken in cheekbones were that gave him a gaunt, haunted look. Give him a thick black cloak and he could easily pass as a Dementor, for sure.

If one ventured close enough, just the man's eyes alone would hungrily envelop yours and pull your feet automatically towards him, as if you had been hit square in the chest with an Imperius Curse. It was nothing the Morning Killer did precisely, per se.

It just looked as if he had a secret you would enjoy hearing about. The man's secret and the killer would never confess this to anybody (not that he had anybody to confess this to.) was that he currently felt conflicted about what to do with Tonks.

He was, after all, a _murderer_ of the highest degree, and the _right_ thing to do was to end her misery, put her out of it while she slept, a simple Killing Curse straight to the chest, or a dagger in her heart if he were to favor the more bloody and Muggle way of ending a life, but…strangely enough, he found that he did not want to do such a thing. " _Yet_ ," he growled darkly under his breath, returning his attention to the sleeping witch in her cell, still amazed the pretty witch could sleep so _peacefully_ , considering…

_No_ , the Morning Killer thought, clenching his teeth and grinding them in anger until he heard a sickening pop as his own molars locked. The last time he'd seen this little dove, he did not like to think of it. He _couldn't_ and he _wouldn't_ think of _that_.

The only indication that Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin was otherwise alive was the steady slow rise and falling of her chest as she slept, and even in sleep, he found this one pretty. Her soft maroon colored hair cascaded in luscious thick waves to just past her collarbones, framing a pale face. Her cute slender straight little nose looked like it had never been broken in a duel. Pink lips ripe for the kissing if he was of a mind to.

He found himself nursing a strange budding desire for this beauty before him. But of course, he couldn't. It would be inappropriate and thus besides. There were more important matters on his mind. Like seeking vengeance for his son who had died in this very prison that she had sent him to—this _witch_! But still. He admired her beauty.

The maroon-haired witch's emotions were not easily hidden on her otherwise innocent face. Her pains of life were evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. The fact that she was sleeping in a hovel like this still surprised him. He'd been expecting to find the young former Auror screaming and crying at the top of her lungs, begging for someone to see that she was, in fact, innocent, and come set her free. But no one was coming for the broken little witch.

The Morning Killer was surprised to find that he could stomach being in the same room with the very same woman who had effectively ruined his life, whether she knew this or not. He scrunched his nose in disgust as the disgusting scent of lavender and eucalyptus floated through the air and settled in his flaring nostrils and he realized it was the young witch's shampoo. _Her hair_ , he thought, biting his bottom lip hard enough that he felt it crack and bleed as he continued to watch Mrs. Lupin sleep peacefully.

He had to calm the excitement in his soul to prevent waking the sleeping beauty on the other side of the barred prison cell door, currently the only barrier between himself and her. This girl was going to be his victim, in time, and this time the wife of the _werewolf_ wasn't going to get to play the bravery card, not like last time, oh, _no_.

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin would be afraid of him one way or another before the night was out, and how sweet that time would be when it came for him, _and_ for her.

The Morning Killer felt his smile falter a little when the young woman murmured something inaudible in her sleep. _Let me see that pretty face no more, little She-Wolf. Let me see. What are you dreaming of, little dove, that causes you such pain, witch_?

The wizard closed his tired eyes and forced himself to concentrate, shutting out all other noises, his surroundings, until he was able to dip into his mind and see for himself.

_What are you dreaming of, Mrs. Lupin? Let me see…let me see…_


	9. Chapter 9

_As usual, Nymphadora Tonks was running bloody late, though it did not stop her from furrowing her brows in a frown and clamping another bobby pin into her mouth, diving for the one that she'd dropped and catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror that hung on the back door of her bedroom in her flat where she lived alone._

_She ran a brush through her maroon-colored hair, which was cut into a graceful long bob that cascaded in natural waves and layers, grazing to just past her collarbones._

_Tonks wasn't considered beautiful in the classical witch way, not like those women on the covers of Witch Weekly every month or veela. No flowing golden curls or piercing eyes of green. She was so pale, almost so white that most were afraid to touch her, wondering if they reached out a hand to graze her skin if they'd meet the air like she was nothing more than a ghost, an apparition._

_She was shorter than average, but in her plain ordinariness, somehow, Tonks was stunning, or so she was told._

_Something radiated from within that rendered her irresistible to both genders._ _Just in the past week alone, she'd had a few wizards from the Ministry at her job ask her out, though not that her current sometimes boyfriend Ollie would ever break up with her, though she'd screamed at him last week and told her coworker they were truly over, this time for good._

_Five minutes before the start of her first Order of the Phoenix meeting with the entire Order present, Nymphadora Tonks decided to give up her old life and start fresh._

_Tonks heaved a heavy sigh and glanced out the cracked-open window of her small flat in downtown London, having to practically crane her neck upwards to see the sky._

_Somewhere, up high, the stars were twinkling, and the moon was out, but they were obscured by the ethereal veil of fog that cast across the London cityscape. Rushing hurriedly, the wind hissed and beat at the windows of homes and flats._

_Lampposts glowed in the living darkness, coating the alleys and streets with a faint golden light that pierced through the thick, dense fog that turned the street white._

_Not even the faintest hoot of an owl could be heard in this thick silence, they stayed silent within their hollows unless they were out delivering post._

_It was certainly not a night to be reckoned with, and she knew she was going to have to go out in it._

_The skies above her head were dull and grievous, and as she bit the inside wall of her cheek as a chilly autumnal late September breeze wafted in through her flat, she pondered what tonight's Order meeting was going to consist._

_Professor Dumbledore had insisted upon her attendance, given she was the newest inducted Order member, as well as the youngest, though her reputation in the Auror Office preceded her abilities._

_When pressed as to the reason, Albus would give Tonks an adequate enough answer, merely that her presence was to be expected, and she would be assigned her new partner. Tonks almost scoffed at that. She had Moody; she didn't need a partner._

_Who was Dumbledore to assume that she of all people, was lonely and needed someone to look after to make sure they didn't get themselves killed by doing something stupid?!_

_Tonks had balked, though she knew there was no changing his mind once Dumbledore had reached a decision, and to argue with him proved pointless._

_The Hogwarts Headmaster had every right, as the founder of the Order, to assign pairings, partnerships as he saw fit._

_Tonks's only chance at this point was that whoever he or she was, she could only hope that the person would be kind enough to her._

_That once they learned of her Metamorphmaging abilities, they would treat her differently and ostracize her, wanting her to change for them, be something she wasn't._

_Just that thought alone was enough to make her physically ill almost, and she could taste the bile. She tasted the metallic tang of iron and copper on her palate and tongue and Tonks blinked, forcing her mind back to thoughts of her present situation._

_Tonks let out a tired sigh as the wind rustled her shoulder-length naturally wavy hair, a soft maroon color today that fell in carefully cut layers to her shoulders as the breeze kissed her hair and pinked her cheeks, before turning back to face her apartment._

_She still needed to make sure her chores were done before she left for the Order meeting, and that her sometimes on-again-off-again boyfriend, Ollie, had dinner left for him, otherwise the stubborn man wouldn't eat at all, though considering they were definitely off, why he'd come over here to insist on mending the leaking drainpipe outside her flat when she could have easily done it herself, was beyond Tonks's ability to understand, though she hoped that Ollie wouldn't walk to talk things through._

_They had already talked. A lot and they were no closer to resolving their issues than they were last week when he'd come for dinner and left screaming at her._

_Ollie worked at the Ministry alongside Tonks, in the Department of Mysteries, and had a good work ethic at his job, though his domesticated home life left much to be desired._

_Her now-off-again-boyfriend would write himself a list of chores in the morning and then sit with a mug of tea, Earl Grey, hot, in hand as he pondered which to do first._

_Then he would check the time and see that he was due a snack and he would call his wife to fix him one since he was 'busy.' After eating the snack, he would realize there wasn't much time until lunch and he would assign Tonks one of the jobs._

_And then after that, he would be ready for another snack. By the mid-afternoon, he would feel sleepy and take a nap until dinner. When he woke up Tonks had already done the list for him._

_Ollie Brennan, though handsome enough, was lazy. There was no way around it. Stronger than her and of course taller (though every wizard and Muggle man was), but he worked as slow as a first-year at Hogwarts and he chewed Tonks's ear off with every bitter thought that crossed his mind._

_He seemed to think he was due the respect of a Hogwarts Professor without ever having done anything to earn it, simply because he worked in the Department of Mysteries, where Ollie was not even allowed to share with Dora the nature of his job due to potential concerns of breaches in confidentiality._

_He took longer breaks than any of her coworkers at the Ministry and at the end of the day, he'd even asked if he could take credit for some of Tonks's own work so it would be perceived as more 'fair.'_

_Tonks sighed, not knowing whereby Merlin's Beard Ollie got his ideas of 'fairness', but she knew the two of them didn't read the same books. It was why, for what had to be the third and final time, they were 'off' again._

_Tonks furrowed her brows into a frown and glanced down at her outfit. A simple black and white striped sweater, black flared trouser pants and a pair of black slip-on sneakers with no laces._

_She'd have opted for her combat boots on a 'normal' day, though given Professor Dumbledore was having her meet her new partner, she decided she did not want to scare him or her more than she was already probably going to._

_So, she had opted for this outfit insisted. Respectable enough, she thought, scrutinizing her makeup and appearance, taking a curl in her hand to twirl it, before giving her reflection a brief nod of approval._

_Tonks bit the inside wall of her cheek and then her bottom lip as her inquisitive gray eyes swept the length of her living room flat before leaving, though her frown deepened as she spotted an empty bag of potato chips on the coffee table in front of the sofa, and she knew, she bloody knew, that Ollie had forgotten to throw it in the trash where it bloody belonged, yet another thing to get annoyed at the man with._

_She sighed tiredly as she gathered up the bags, and brushed away the crumbs (the last thing her flat needed was bloody mice invading!), throwing the bags into the trash can and scrunching her nose in disgust at Ollie's laziness._

_She was going to have words with him later if the man decided to show up, though she highly doubted he wouldn't after their last screaming row had ended up with her sending a well-aimed Bat Bogey Hex square at his chest._

_He'd not sent her a single letter via owl post asking to meet with her again, though she presumed it was only a matter of time._

_Stifling a low growl of frustration that threatened escape, she darted around the room wildly, looking for her little black purse until she found it, slipping it over her shoulder and unzipping it once, her bag complete with an Extension Charm._

_Tonks slipped her apartment keys into her purse out of habit, though she always locked the door as discreetly as she could with her wand, careful to keep it out of sight, considering she lived amongst Muggles and their families._

_Tonks sighed as she stepped out the door, gingerly closing it behind her and waving her wand once to lock it, not budging until she heard the deadbolts lock, waiting until she'd walked down the hallway and out into the brisk September air before turning on the heel of her black shoe and Disapparating with a loud crack! as her mind solely focused on where she wanted to go. Number 12, Grimmauld Place._

_To meet my new partner, Tonks thought, her gray eyes flinging wide open as she felt the wind tousle her wavy maroon hair, having already arrived at her destination._

_She had to crane her neck up to look at the decrepit, old tumble-down Muggle townhouse, thinking for certain that she had taken a wrong turn somewhere. "Here?"_

_Tonks was unable to keep the note of disgust and disbelief out of her voice._ _"My cousin Sirius lives here. Ugh. Why am I not surprised?!" She bit down on her bottom lip and knitted her brows together in a look that she was sure displayed her rancor._

_The young witch was already in a mood at having to clean up Ollie's mess around her flat, and now, Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix was not exactly what she had been expecting, and she wasn't quite sure how to express her discontent at all this._

_Tonks heaved a groan of exasperation, her fingers curling into a fist over the strap of her black leather purse and quite literally stomped, yes, stomped her way up the stoop of Headquarters, surveying her new surroundings with an enormous look of distrust._

_Was this Dumbledore's idea of a joke? It wouldn't be the first time, she thought. Scowling, she stood at the top stoop, though recognized she was standing too close to the edge of the topmost step, and felt herself beginning to lean, and a muffled squeak of terror escaped her lips._

_She was going to bloody fall if she couldn't manage to right—_

_"Here! I've got you!" A Stranger's voice exclaimed, sounding though it was laced to the brim with concern intermingled with that of minor amusement, which set her blood aflame, and Tonks couldn't stop herself from slipping and starting to fall backward off the step._

_Did this person think it was funny, to watch a person fall and possibly injure themselves?_

_Though Tonks had virtually no time to ponder over this as a pair of surprisingly strong arms caught her around her shoulders and suddenly, leaning over her, was a stranger._

_A tall, lean man in his thirties in a simple sweater and trousers, well-worn but cared for, she noticed. His lips were pursed into a thin line, though something in his prematurely lined face softened as he looked at her and relaxed into a smile, his light brown eyes twinkling with just a hint of playfulness as he righted her upright._

_Tonks huffed in frustration, a maddening pink blush speckling its way along her cheeks at this He-Stranger, this Order member who had almost seen her fall._

_She was dead clumsy, though she'd hoped to conceal that little fact about herself tonight._

_Well, not anymore. Great, she thought, grinding her teeth in annoyance. There goes that part of my plan. You're off to a fantastic start, T, I'm sure he thinks you're an idiot!_

_Tonks barely managed to stifle her moan of embarrassment as she turned away._

_It did not escape her attention that the man's slightly roughened and calloused hands rested lightly on her shoulders, just in case Tonks fell again, and he made no attempt to remove them, not even when Tonks took a half-step forward to get him to let go._

_"I—I can walk by myself, thank you," she murmured in a gruff, ashamed tone._

_The Stranger standing beside her did not seem entirely convinced, for he furrowed his brows in a frown, and parted his lips open to speak, though did not get a chance as another man, this one a dark-haired Stranger, wrenched open the door to Headquarters._

_The man had dark hair that fell to his shoulders, smartly dressed in a maroon coat with a closely-trimmed beard, the tip of his wand lighted in front of him as he practically barreled down the steps of Number 12, Grimmauld Place to get a good look._

_He'd seemingly come out of nowhere and it was more than a little unnerving, and Tonks noticed that the man with the light brown hair flecked with bits of gray throughout still had not managed to relinquish control of her shoulders._

_Tonks flinched and diverted her gaze back to the ground beneath her shoes, allowing a curl to tumble in front of her face as the dark-haired man practically thrust his lit wand into her face._

_"I heard a noise, Moony, I'm guessing that was you or the girl?" the man barked by way of a greeting, seeming to take no notice of Tonks, and it was almost frightening._

_"We're fine, Sirius," the man spoke up in a quiet, reserved tone that sent a chill of…something, down Tonks's spine, though what it was, Tonks could not identify it._

_This must be my cousin, Tonks thought, sighing in frustration, closing her eyes._

_"That was close, then. You're lucky Moony here was outside and able to catch your fall before you hurt yourself," the man whom she now knew was Sirius joked, a lightly teasing tone as he thrust his lighted wand tip closer into Tonks's face._

_The strange blinding light and the heat emanating from the tip of the wizard's wand was almost unbearable, too stark a contrast to the cold September London air, and for a moment, Tonks's fingers curled instinctively over the strap of her black bag, fully prepared to pelt Sirius Black with it until he got the tip of his wand out of her face. Tonks couldn't bloody see!_

_"Oy, Moony, our newest Order member is quite pretty, she is," her cousin said bluntly, still holding the lighted tip of his wand way too close to Tonks's face. "If you like short girls, that is." The man snorted and laughed, lowering his wand at last._

_Tonks gaped at him, finding herself at a complete loss for words. She blinked owlishly at him, and still held onto her little black purse defensively, prepared to pelt him with it for taking a jab at her height._

_The young witch furrowed her thin eyebrows as she got a good look at her cousin underneath the flickering streetlamp just outside of Headquarters and stared at him._

_She had heard many things about her mysterious cousin in question, this former Prisoner of Azkaban, one of the first men to escape after twelve years of being successfully imprisoned, though it had recently come to light the man was innocent of his crimes._

_Some things that she had heard were good, but most…were not, however._

_The topic of her cousin whom she did not know made her uneasy, so Tonks had tried to avoid that point of conversation when their familial ties were brought up whenever possible, though something within her did not feel right talking atrociously about someone she did not know and had up until this point, had never met before._

_Though as she looked upon Sirius Black now, she did not believe the stories, however, something within her still harbored a twinge of caution towards her cousin, and she despised this feeling._

_She knew it stemmed from all the horrible stories she'd been told by her parents who had taken it upon themselves to instill fearmongering._

_"I never took you for being so clumsy, cousin," her cousin continued his unnecessary comment on her almost-fall, oblivious to Tonks's growing discomfort._

_Tonks bristled and her lips parted open slightly in shock and she found herself unable to form an adequate response to her cousin's jab at her natural short stature. She was only 5'5, of average height for a witch, though both of these men were considerably taller than she was._

_The one who had caught her fall, the Stranger whose name she had yet to learn, with the light brown hair, had to tower over her at around 6'2. At best._

_Tonks bit the wall of her cheek as she chanced a peek at him out of the corner of her eye, thinking the man was a clear head taller than most she'd call tall. Lanky though he was, there was a little bulk on the Stranger, some muscles beneath the sweater. Not handsome, she thought, but rugged._

_Tonks couldn't help but inappropriately wonder how many jokes the guy got and comments about his stature he got daily, jibs about 'the air being thin up there.'_

_Tonks blushed maddeningly, lowering her head, and allowing a curl of her hair to tumble in front of her face as she turned her head to the left to avoid looking at him._

_She didn't even have to look at the other man to know he was displeased. She did not appreciate the fact that Sirius Black had voiced it out loud in such a rude manner!_

_At least this man with the light brown hair, if he thought her clumsy, knew better than to mention it._

_The man who had caught her fall had not told her to be careful next time or to hold onto the rail when she climbed up the steps, though Tonks could tell as she dared to lift her chin and meet his gaze, tossing her wavy hair over her shoulders, that the thought had briefly crossed his mind, though he must have taken one look at her expression and had thought better of it._

_Tonks hated the fact that she wasn't graceful. She was always falling and tripping over herself, it seemed like, no matter what she did._

_"Yes, well, appearances, dear cousin, aren't always what they seem," Tonks growled, well aware that her voice sounded cold as she crossed her arms over her chest._

_Sirius Black frowned, his brows coming together in a quandary, his laughter immediately dying to his throat as his gaze flitted from her to the man who'd caught her fall. "You're right, they aren't," he murmured, and suddenly, Sirius sounded ashamed._

_Tonks blinked owlishly at her cousin and reeled back in surprise. She had not been expecting or anticipating that this man would agree with her sentiment._

_The fact that the two of them had only just met and already, Black was agreeing with her was somewhat intriguing, and Tonks almost swore she felt her ears perk up in the intrigue._

_"Thank you," she murmured, feeling the heat creep along her cheeks at a rapidly alarming pace, and she exhaled a tense sigh of relief as Sirius Black offered her a curt nod of his head, lowering it with a loose smile on his face as he turned, heading inside._

_She watched him though made no move to follow her cousin, not even when he closed the door behind him to Headquarters, though he did manage to shoot a quirked brow in her and this Stranger's general direction as if to question why they weren't coming inside, though she did not want to head inside quite just yet._

_In truth, Tonks still felt quite flustered, both from the fact that this trash heap was headquarters, and…_

_Almost falling on my butt in front of a complete and total stranger, she thought angrily, clenching her jaw in disgust, and Tonks was alarmed when the man spoke up._

_"It's quite a sight, isn't it?" the man asked, taking a half-step and moving to stand beside her, watching her with a bemused sort of expression as Tonks slowly and methodically swiveled her head to find the man who'd broken their fall staring at the old Muggle townhouse that was Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the Order's safe house._

_Tonks offered no immediate reply as she quickly gave him a once-over. He stood an inch or two shy of 6'3, she thought, with a somewhat prematurely lined face that was heavily scarred, three jagged red lines snaked its way across the man's entire face._

_They stared at just above his right browbone and cut in a diagonal slash mark and ended at the corner of the man's lip, causing it to curl downward just slightly._

_Permanent, Tonks thought, a little suspiciously, wondering what the hell happened to him._

_Had this man been on the receiving end of a particularly nasty Sectumsempra Curse that had never fully healed, and this was the end result of that?_

_He could give Mad-Eye Moody a run for his Galleons with those scars…._

_The young witch blinked, and she continued her initial assessment of the man who'd broken her fall. His light brown hair flecked with premature bits of grey scattered throughout was thick, cropped short, though one stubborn lock of the man's bangs tended to fall forward in front of his eyes and seemed to irritate him to no end._

_Not handsome, she thought, but rugged. If she had to pinpoint his age, Tonks would guess this man to be somewhere in his early to mid-thirties, judging by his face._

_The man let a dark little chuckle escape from his lips, and he turned and joined Tonks in her staring of the Order of the Phoenix's new headquarters and safe house._

_"Must have been beautiful some time ago," the man spoke again in a murmur._

_"No." Tonks had to disagree with the man, thinking that though he would grace no cover of a magazine, the man had a rich, smooth, melodious voice, and she shook her head, tossing her maroon curls over her shoulder. "It probably wasn't. I've seen worse than this," she heard herself reply, and did not bother to stop herself. "But things always change when you see worse. And then you go back to what you thought was ugly and find them beautiful."_

_The man with the light brown hair breathed out what was supposed to be laughter, Tonks guessed, and she didn't exactly find herself impressed with this guy._

_She found it upsetting to know that this man had broken her fall, and while she was admittedly grateful to this Stranger for doing so, now he, and the rest of the Order no doubt, would know that she was dead clumsy once the man told everyone at dinner._

_"Or maybe," the man offered at an attempt to make further conversation with her, "it's still ugly," he said, "only now you think it's pretty because you still have not seen the worst."_

_There was a note of bitterness within his voice that piqued her interest._

_Tonks flinched and faced the man with the light brown hair, her head inclined, her wand hand still curled tightly over the strap of her bag, ready to pelt this guy with it too if he made a crack at her height or anything else about her. She'd had enough verbal abuse from Ollie, she was high strung tonight._

_"I—I'm sorry, sir. Th—thank you for catching my fall, I'm dead clumsy, in case you haven't been able to figure that out for yourself," she breathed, swallowing hard. "Forgive me, but I must have missed your name. My name is Nymphadora Tonks, but don't dare bloody call me that if you value keeping your tongue, and if you do, I will carve your eyes from your head. Slowly."_

_Tonks scrunched her nose in disgust and was only briefly aware of her wavy maroon hair changing to crimson in color the angrier she got over her stupid first name her foolish mother had seen fit to bestow upon her birth when she'd emerged from the womb._

_The man frowned, and folded his arms across his chest, shrinking into his sweater for warmth, looking like he wanted to escape, and he sensed no need for Tonks's sudden hostility towards his otherwise welcoming behavior, though in her mind she had every need, and she was justified._

_"What should I call you, if not by your full first name then, Miss Tonks?" he asked._

_"Dora," Tonks whispered, unable to stop the shudder at even uttering that. She hated her name, though this was the hand that she had been dealt with in her lonely life._

_He nodded and smiled again. "Dora, then. I don't think I introduced myself earlier before you…almost fell," he finished lamely, coughing once to clear his throat. "Remus, Miss Tonks. Remus Lupin."_

_He left his introduction hanging in the air and fell silent, waiting for Tonks to respond and say something else. She didn't, at first._

_A strange name, Tonks thought, furrowing her brows in a frown. The silence lingered between the two Order members, but Tonks could feel the thick tension._

_In that, this was how this Remus Lupin saw her, a young witch who was clumsy. And Tonks was quick to decide that she did not like it. Not. One. Bit._

_The man's light brown eyes were seemingly warm, though masked with a smile but something inside the man, something dark festered, Tonks could just almost feel it, and it chilled her._

_As Lupin's eyes briefly wandered the length of her body, scrutinizing her appearance before settling upon her hair, which Tonks had taken a strand in her fingers to twirl and wind it around her forefinger, a nervous habit whenever she was skittish, he froze, and Tonks swore that she saw a tightening in Remus Lupin's jawline._

_His face was pale, and there was a strange revolt in his eyes as he looked at her, which Tonks thought was rather unfounded, considering they'd just met._

_What did he feel for her? Hatred? Jealousy? A strange revolt? And why? And furthermore, to the point, why did she find herself giving a damn and caring so much about what this strange man with the scars thought of her?_

_What was wrong with her?!_

_Either way, Tonks found herself swallowing nervously and strode up the steps of Headquarters for a second time, actively averting the man's gaze, though feeling his piercing, burning stare practically drilling a hole in her backside as she stomped, yes quite literally stomped up the stoop for a second time, mindful to watch her step again._

_Without second thoughts, she pushed this Remus Lupin aside. She had no interest in making friends anymore, much less being forced to take on a new partner for work, for missions for the Order when she wasn't on duty at the Ministry, especially with this man taking the side of her own cousin, Sirius, who had openly mocked her just now._

_She held a moment of anger towards Remus Lupin as she had seen the way that Sirius had looked at Lupin, how the two were chums, maybe even best friends, actually._

_But why then, if this Remus had been bothered by Sirius Black taunting his cousin about her natural clumsiness, had he not spoken up and told him to cut it out?_

_Surely, Lupin had to have sensed Tonks's discomfort, and how she was feeling…it was so obvious. Although Tonks was a somewhat more reserved person and maybe it was only evident to her because she had seemingly been the only one paying any attention._

_Tonks's first impression of Sirius was the man always had his head in the clouds. Too busy having fun to notice other people's pain, and just like that, her anger resurfaced, and not just at her cousin this time, but with Remus Lupin as well._

_Tonks, as she slammed the door behind her without even bothering to wait for the man who had saved her fall and quite possibly from a broken ankle as well, began to wonder just what it was that Remus Lupin saw in his best mate like Sirius Black._

_The man was arrogant, stubborn, thickheaded as all get out, boorish and rude, handsome devil though he may be, that devil may care attitude would get her cousin into trouble one day, and Tonks could not help but think that she was going to be the one who'd have to put out the fire when Sirius Black royally screwed up big time._

_He could be a real jerk sometimes, and he had proven that to her tonight…_

_Tonks's only prayer as she heard the door close behind her, and could feel Remus Lupin hovering over her as the tall man trailed behind her, close enough for Tonks's personal space to feel somewhat violated as he whispered under his voice to watch her step and try her hardest not to wake anything up._

_Tonks was briefly of a mind to turn around and to tell Lupin to back off and to mind his own bloody business, was that she hoped her new partner wasn't going to be Sirius Black, and whoever they were would be kinder._

_She could only hope so…_


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione cast a cautious glance throughout the room, agreeing silently with Mr. Weasley that the best way to flush out this intruder in the Order's Headquarters was to wait for the blonde girl to reveal herself, for the two of them to patiently wait for her to come out on her own, of her own volition.

She was going to get tired of hiding eventually. Hermione knew that searching for this girl would probably only succeed in scaring her even further, and that was the last thing she probably needed tonight, really.

After all, Hermione _knew_ what it was like. Being on your own in an unfamiliar situation with no one else to turn to for help.

Hermione furrowed her brows into a frown as she recollected how serious Professor Dumbledore's expression had been down in the kitchens, and she wondered if there was every possibility that this girl that they were dealing with was a Muggle.

More to the point besides, she had gotten a strange look in her eyes when Sirius had held the tip of his wand to her throat like she didn't know what the object was as if she had never seen one before.

Hermione's frown deepened.

If _that_ proved to be the case, then they were going to have a very delicate time in figuring out what she was doing here, and why she fell through the ceiling.

_Someone must have sent her here_ , Hermione thought, biting the wall of her cheek. _But why? For what purpose? Maybe she's got a message for somebody here_?

She couldn't rule it out of the realm of possibility. Hermione, coming from Muggle parents, knew that if she were a Muggle like she suspected this girl that she and Arthur were currently standing against the wall in wait for her to come out on her own, and if she had fallen through the ceiling via a Portkey and she found herself face-to-face with several people that she did not know and had her own throat held hostage by Sirius's wand.

Hermione knew that _she_ probably would have had a similar fight-or-flight reaction, like the girl had, and would have attempted to flee the scene entirely.

Hermione was jolted out of her musings as she pondered just how this she-stranger had ended up in her unfortunate predicament when she _swore_ she heard a slight shuffling noise coming from the opposite end of the room.

She felt her head whiplash sharply up to regard the noise, wondering if their intruder was showing herself at long last. She bit down on her tongue, debating if she should go and investigate or wait.

Should they wait a minute or two, just to be safe? Hermione, ever the cautious one, glanced sideways at Mr. Weasley out of the corner of her eye, who nodded.

A noise coming from somewhere downstairs alerted Hermione's attention, who swiveled her head to the left and she turned at the waist slightly to regard the ruckus.

It sounded like Sirius if judging by the booming voice echoing down the hall was anything to go off of, making a hell of a racket and it sounded like he threw something.

She could hear Remus, and the occasional cooing of his newborn baby son, as Lupin was heard having a downright fit about how Sirius throwing things in his anger had caused him to wake up baby Teddy.

Hermione heaved a tired sigh and shook her head.

Though she didn't have quite as much experience in this regard as the older members of the Order did, the one thing she could safely bet her Galleons on from her new job at the Ministry following her graduation from Hogwarts was that making such chaotic noise like that would only compel this young blonde to go deeper into hiding, and it was going to be a very _long_ night for everyone here at Headquarters if Sirius couldn't control his temper.

Sometimes, she pondered, and she'd never dare admit this to anyone else, not even Harry, the guys in the Order were a bit daft. Thick-headed as all get out, they'd give Ron and Harry a run for their money.

At least Sirius could be. Remus not so much, he was quite intelligent, same went for Arthur.

Hermione let out another sigh and rested against the wall, just in time for a sharp squeak of a surprise to cut through the otherwise silent storage room.

Hermione swiveled her head back around to the right, just in time to see the blonde she-stranger emerge from behind the dresser that Hermione had a feeling she'd ducked behind in the hope of avoiding being seen, and Hermione stifled a small smile.

_Well_ , she thought, as she took a cautious half-step forward, careful to stow her wand in her jeans pocket, with Mr. Weasley noticing what she was doing and following her lead, _time to go introduce ourselves and hope she doesn't break our noses next_ …

* * *

Renee's body stiffened, her body tensing up and locking so severely, she briefly thought that if she were to lose her balance from her hiding spot in this overly cluttered room that her bones would shatter the second she hit the floor like she was made of glass.

The young blonde restaurant manager drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she heard the inevitable sound of a pair of footfalls, two of them, approaching.

One heavy, sounding like they belonged to a man's, and the other much too light to belong to a guy, Renee thought, biting the inside wall of her cheek in anguish.

Oh, she knew it was inevitable that she was bound to be discovered at some point, sooner rather than later, if she was being honest with herself, this wasn't the best hiding spot in the world, and to top it off, she didn't even know _where_ she was, and she sincerely hoped that wherever 'here' was for her, that she could find this Mr. Lupin that crazy pink-haired lady had mentioned, relay the message that some crazy crooked cops had arrested his _nutter_ of a pretty but crazy wife of this Lupin's, and get _out_ of here and get home to her kid brother Billy before anything else happened to her tonight.

No more stepping into filthy trash can lids, no more falling through ceilings on top of tables, which was still debatable, given how she'd ended up here, Renee thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

_Maybe I hit my head so hard I have a concussion_ , she tried to reason with herself, though even just _thinking_ the words in her mind sounded ridiculous to the blonde _. Yeah. Maybe that's it_.

Though before Renee could so much as even entertain this notion to herself, the sound of the doorknob jiggling and clicking open, followed by the sound of hushed whispers, one female, young, and the other, a man's, older, reached her eardrums, and Renee felt like her heart was going fly out of her chest.

Thinking fast, Renee shoved her white-boned knuckles into her mouth to keep from letting any squeaks escape the confines of her lips as the voices grew louder.

A girl spoke, and Renee blinked upon hearing her voice, thinking whoever was looking for her didn't sound that much older than her.

Maybe they were close to the same age, which was a relatively small modicum of comfort.

"If _I_ were someone who didn't want to be found," the girl spoke up in a soft, quiet, non-accusatory tone, which Renee could not help but feel at least a little bit relieved by this, "where d'you think I would hide in here, Arthur? Behind the desk?"

Renee could not help but frown and quirk her brow at thinking this girl, whoever the bloody hell she was, sounded way too happy-go-lucky and calm, given the current state of things.

Her hands, much to her chagrin, had started to violently shake and practically had to, as quietly as she could, sit on the palms of her hands to tamp it down.

She thought she'd been bloody panicking earlier when that guy had held the strange custom wooden knife to her throat, but that little panic attack was nothing compared to what Renee felt now.

What the hell was she going to do now, then?!

What if these two _found_ her. She drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and almost allowed a little squeak to escape past her lips as she heard the male voice speak.

"You take the left side of the room, Hermione, and I'll take the right," the man's voice said, and Renee's frown deepened.

Whoever these guys were, they didn't _sound_ like mass murderers hellbent on killing her if she were to be discovered here like this.

Renee bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to crack the skin and cause it to bleed. What _now_?

She highly doubted she'd be able to escape for a second time, this time considering there were two someone's after her now, and with all that shit blocking the way to the door of whatever kind of bloody storage room of junk this was.

For as clever and as smart as she was, her wits had done her no good in this little situation. The only thing Renee Barreau had managed to do was back herself in a corner. Literally, with two strangers and trapped in a room with no hope of escaping.

Luck, it would seem, was not exactly a friend to her, nor on her side tonight.

_But it's even WORSE for that lady who like it or not, DID save your life, Barreau. What the bloody hell did she call herself? I think her name was…Tonks! Yeah, that's it. Tonks, Tonks, her name is Tonks. Cool. You can do this Renee, you just gotta get the bloody hell out of here and find her husband and let him know what's happened to his wife and then you can go home to Billy and your cat_ , her conscience chimed up, and immediately, Renee felt a pang of guilt tug at her heart.

A tiny, frightened squeak very nearly gave away her position, though something within Renee's chest as it tightened and constricted, and it felt like her throat had hollowed, cutting off air to her passageways, made her pause in her wild imaginings.

The sound of both sets of footsteps was _gone_. The room was utterly silent. _Silent_.

Renee furrowed her brows and flung her eyes wide open.

Were they…were they gone? _Maybe they gave up searching and decided to go to another room, but if that's the case_ —

Out of a sheer sense of morbid curiosity that was surging like wildfire through her veins, Renee decided to throw caution to the wind here and dare to peek her head around the corner of the dresser that she'd chosen to hide behind in the hopes of being un-discovered, though the sound of a floorboard creaked nearly caused her to scream.

Slowly but surely, Renee swiveled her head to her immediate right, towards the source of the noise, letting out a muffled whimper as she did so that turned into a whine and suddenly, standing not but a few feet in front of her, was a young woman.

Though the young brunette who looked to be about her age seemed kind enough, if there was one bloody thing that Renee had learned tonight in the span of just a single evening, it was that appearances could definitely deceive you.

She'd been forced into coming her somehow by the female cop who had been wrongly arrested.

_Whose husband I still need to find_ , Renee thought guiltily, though her panicked mind quickly shoved aside all thoughts of this Remus Lupin character, as she now had a much bigger problem that arrested wives staring her in the face, and this problem's name was… _Wait_.

Renee furrowed her brows and felt her lips part open as she cried to speak, to practically begging this girl not to kill her, she'd do bloody _anything_ , when it hit her.

She didn't exactly know this girl's name from Eve, so who _was_ she?!

Renee swallowed down hard past the swelling lump in her throat that felt like it had successfully succeeded in cutting off air to her passageways at this point.

She felt like she was going to be physically ill, and she could _swear_ she saw black spots in her vision.

Raw, unbridled fear hit her squarely in the chest, and Renee thought this brunette standing in front of her, almond-shaped brown eyes wide and round with utter shock, might as well just do whatever she was going to do and just put a bullet in her head.

It would be a mercy to her at this point because she was sure as hell wasn't going the same way as the poor saps that the Morning Killer creep tended to pick off one by one.

She'd slit her wrists before she'd _ever_ allowed herself to get taken by that man. The urge to open her mouth and belt out the loudest scream that she possibly could was rapidly rising in the back of her throat, though, when she opened her lips to _try_ , nothing came out except a strangled attempt at speech, just croaks and pitiful mewling's.

The scream lingered on her tongue, heavy and frozen, and Renee felt beads of sweat start to gather on her brow and steadily drip down her pounding, aching temples.

Renee's feet felt heavy in her black boots, and when she tried to take even the slightest half-step forward from out behind the dresser behind which she'd managed to wedge herself, it felt like her limbs were now concrete, and she was rendered frozen.

This was bloody _it_. The girl, whoever this she-stranger was, was going to call that same guy that held the wooden knife to her throat and then he was going to kill her and cut her up into tiny little pieces, she just _knew_ it! Tonight is the night she _dies_!

Renee did not know how long she and the brunette stared at one another like this, and she was vaguely aware of a tall, average-looking man with a vibrant wild shock of red hair and move to stand next to the brunette.

Her gaze briefly flitted to the guy to check him out, thinking that by the way he was nervously smiling at her, that he meant no harm, and probably under normal circumstances on a good day, seemed kind enough, but this was definitely not shaping up to be a normal day for Renee.

Not for her, not for this other girl, and not for this man. Not for anybody else in this bloody cursed creepy house!

Renee gulped nervously and her gaze flitted back to the brunette. A slight glance downward where her sharp blue eyes lingered on the pocket of her jeans, she could briefly see one of those same wooden knives sticking out of the girl's front pocket.

_What the bloody hell kind of frat house is this, some kind of cult or something_?

Did _all_ their members carry these strange-looking wooden knives in this place?!

She stared at the young brunette who was close to her age, wide-eyed and unblinking, and the she-stranger stared right back, neither one making the first attempt to moving toward the other or speaking.

Renee swallowed again, thinking that she must be officially losing her mind.

"Are you hurt, Miss…?"

The red-haired man's voice spoke up, soft and kind, which caused Renee to flinch instinctively and involuntarily at the sound, though neither the ginger-haired man nor the brunette made the first move towards her.

Instead, the older man and girl her age remained rooted to their spot in front of her, seemingly content to address her from where they stood, behaving like they didn't want to frighten her off, which Renee supposed, given the circumstances, she appreciated.

The girl was the next to break the silence, upon seeing Renee shake her head mutely, furrowing her brows in a frown.

"I'm sorry if we scared you," she murmured in what sounded to Renee like an apologetic voice, which only further confused her.

_Wait_. Of all the things she had imagined that her would-be-killers would ask, asking after her wellbeing was certainly not what she had been expecting would be at the top of their list. Did this man really just ask her if she was hurt and all right?!

What the bloody hell kind of question was _that_? _No_ , she wasn't bloody _all right_! Far from it.

She'd been forced to step into a trash can lid that seemed to have…transported her straight into this house somehow as if by _magic_ or something, fallen on top of a table, been cornered by her crazy ass ex-boyfriend John Newall, who may or may not be the killer the London cops were currently trying to find, and now, to top this exhaustive night off, she'd had a dark-haired stranger hold a knife to her throat and was now conversing with friends of this man's, and she didn't even know their _names_!

So, no, she was _not_ bloody _all right_ , for God's sake! Far from it, actually!

Furthermore, she had no idea _why_ all of these _strangers_ were hunting her down in this creepy old house that _Renee swore_ had a mind of its own as it creaked and groaned.

Like it was _haunted_ or something, and just _that_ thought sent a chill down her back, and she blinked owlishly at the two strangers standing in front of her, trying to find a way to cause words to come out of her mouth that would accurately vocalize her immense displeasure at the horrible turn of events her Friday night had suddenly taken.

However, the more she attempted to speak to the two who were standing and waiting, acting like polite, patient adults, the more Renee became sure that she only succeeded in scrunching her eyebrows up in a comical way and looking dumbfounded.

Her mouth hung slack-jawed as she nervously eyed their strange-looking wooden knives in their pockets.

"Wh—what are _those_?" Renee squeaked, surprised to hear how low and hoarse her voice sounded. In truth, she was honestly surprised she could speak at all.

The ginger-haired man spoke up first, saving the young brunette the trouble of responding.

"Our wands," he answered simply, and he either ignored the fact that Renee's already pale face had drained completely of color, and her jaw hung open in shock, or he _had_ noticed it and launched into a further explanation to avoid confusion. "Miss, this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but we're a community of wizards and witches, those of who you briefly saw downstairs in the kitchen during your…arrival."

Renee blinked, gawking at the stranger, her nervous gaze flitting towards the young brunette who was close to her age, who shot her brows up at the red-haired man in obvious disapproval at his statement, though she quickly nodded her head in agreement, and slowly removed her wand from her pocket.

"It's all right," she soothed in a calm and quiet tone, raising her wand slightly, not pointing it directly at Renee.

The young brunette witch pointed the wooden stick at the room, murmured what sounded like a Latin incantation at all of the junk and clutter which lay scattered about the room, and within an instant before her very eyes, everything in the room vanished.

Renee barely felt her jaw drop open in slight shock, and her face fell faster than a corpse in cement boots, and she staggered backward a good two steps before her back was pressed against the wall, with nowhere to run or hide.

"Th—what? That's…that's _not_ possible, is it?" Renee squeaked, pointing a shaking hand at the now-cleaned room.

"It is," the ginger-haired man spoke up kindly, his brows furrowed in a slight frown, no doubt have noticed by now how her fingers were jumping rhythmically as the blonde-haired woman painfully twisted them together in front of her middle, as if in spasm.

And then her legs gently folded as she slid down to the floor, using the wall as a support brace, and carded her fingers through her short blonde pixie cut, tugging on the locks so hard that it looked like the roots of her poor hair screamed in protest.

Hermione and Mr. Weasley crept forward slightly, gently, and slowly, so as to hopefully not startle the poor girl even further.

Both exchanged worried glances with one another as they caught murmurings the girl uttered under her breath through gritted teeth.

"…not a _trick_ , not a joke of John's…th—this can't be happening. That crazy lady really _was_ telling me the _truth_! Oh, God, oh no, no, oh _no_ , what do I _do_? She—she must be _nuts_ I—if she's relying on _me_ to tell this Lupin character—"

That was _all_ Arthur Weasley needed to hear. His ears perked up at the mention of a familiar, friendly name, and he knelt on the floor in front of the distraught young blonde.

"Lupin?" he demanded, unable to keep the note of urgency out of his voice. "You don't mean _Remus_ , do you? He's downstairs on the first floor with Sirius."

Renee slowly lifted her head and eyed the ginger-haired man in nervous apprehension, shrinking back against the wall as far as she could go, her eyes fixated on the wand he held in his hand.

"Ngh—you— _you stay away from me_!" she shouted, snarling, and baring her teeth like she was some kind of rabid wild dog. " _Don't point that bloody thing at me, get it out of my face, grandpa! Why would I tell you anything, man, what if you kill me with that_?" she growled, her blue eyes flitting wildly from Arthur to Hermione. "If you're going to kill me, you might as well do it now and get it over with. Just kill me," she snapped.

Arthur blinked, feeling certain he had misheard. There was no doubt in his mind now that he and Hermione were dealing with a young Muggle woman who would have to slowly but surely get used to the idea that magic existed in this world.

Hermione, Merlin bless her soul, waved her wand and conjured a steaming mug of tea from downstairs, and joined Mr. Weasley in kneeling on the floor beside her, leaning up against the wall.

Hermione shot Arthur a silent look that conveyed a multitude of emotions, and Arthur knew that the two of them were going to stay put in this newly-cleaned storage room for as long as it took for the frightened young woman to calm down.

It was the very least she could do, and the fact remained that she was carrying a message intended for Remus.

Arthur could not help but wonder who sent her. _Was it Tonks_? He wondered with furrowed brows as he bit down on his lip.

Mr. Weasley knew that he did not want to immediately press her for answers, but he knew that sooner, rather than later, they were going to have to get to the bottom of this.

"Let Dumbledore talk with her before we say anything to Remus, whatever her message is," Hermione spoke up quietly, whisper-hissing her words while the young blonde slowly lifted the mug of steaming tea to her lips, sniffing it, obviously trying to detect any sign of poison, and when she could detect none, she must have decided that it was safe to drink, for she slowly lifted the rim of the cup to her lips and drank heavily.

Renee heard the young brunette's words, though she offered no comment to either one of them.

She waited several long seconds for either one of these new arrivals to make the first move towards calling the dark-haired man who held the wand to her throat—a _wand_ —she swallowed nervously and blinked back briny, salty liquid that threatened to escape from the corners of her lids.

Was—was all of this really for _real_?

Did… _magic_ … _really_ exist? She wasn't just hallucinating or having some dream? And furthermore, what did these two (a witch and a wizard, if this was real) want with _her_ , Renee Barreau, co-manager of the Broken Spoon Café in underground London?

_Maybe they're related or know this Lupin guy that I'm supposed to find_ , she thought, her brows furrowing in a frown, still feeling like her mind was reeling.

What were they _playing_ at, this girl and this man, by giving her hot tea, and attempting to make small talk in order to calm her the bloody hell down, huh?!

And what was even worse, why was she even _entertaining_ the idea of trusting these two when she didn't even bloody know their first names yet?

Just because the two of them hadn't alerted the _rest_ of the house to her presence here in this now-empty storage room didn't mean that they didn't plan to turn her over to that guy later on.

_Oh, my God, what if they drugged the tea that I just drank_? She thought, and her swell of panic seized at her heartstrings and caused her chest to constrict and tighten. _What if this is all a bloody trap and I fell for it like a Black Tuesday banker_ , she mused.

What the hell was _wrong_ with her?!

This was just like when her and Billy's parents had still been alive, and when she was a little girl, they'd instilled in her the lesson not to blindly accept anything from strangers, and she'd broken that rule now!

And what did she find herself in the midst of doing? Accepting help from two strangers, who, admittedly, _seemed_ kind enough, she guessed, though they could very well play a hand in getting her bloody killed tonight if she weren't more careful.

But…. The tea had tasted so _good_ , and she figured if it _had_ been poisoned, she would have started showing symptoms by now. Getting nauseous and sick, throwing up, foaming at the mouth, whatever.

She'd seen all of those crime shows. She _knew_ how it worked.

Though she wasn't exactly in a position to argue or try to escape again.

"Look, guys, if you're gonna _kill_ me, just bloody do it _now_ and get it the hell _over_ with," she squeaked, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and setting the tea mug down on the floor, not bothering to tamper down the tears that escaped from her lids. "Just do it. I..I'm _clearly_ dreaming, b-but...I don't have the brains to make this crap up!"

" _What_?!" The young brunette's voice sounded absolutely appalled and disgusted, which caused Renee's sky-blue eyes to fling wide open in shock, slowly turning at the waist to regard the other girl as she reached up and tucked a stray strand of brown hair back behind her ears. "No, no, no!"

As if to emphasize her point, she lowered her wand next to her thigh and set it on the floor, and raised her hands above her head, almost as if in surrender and to suggest to Renee that she meant her no harm at all.

"Mr. Weasley and I, that's Arthur," the brunette murmured, gesturing towards the ginger-haired man in his forties with a curt jerk of her head, "don't mean to hurt you at all! We—we just want to _talk_. You—you fell through the ceiling via a Portkey," the girl explained cautiously, slowly, as though she were speaking to a twelve-year-old-child.

Renee blinked, confused. _What the bloody hell is a Portkey_? She thought angrily.

The man who she now knew to be called Arthur had sensed her confusion that must have been evident on her face, for he spoke up before the brunette could continue.

"A Portkey is a magical device that can instantly transport you from one place to another. Sort of like your Muggle cars and buses, but much, much faster."

"Muggle?" Renee furrowed her brows and wiggled them at this Arthur Weasley character, finding him to be a strange chap, but he seemed to have a kind personality.

"Non-magical folk. People like you," the brunette answered quietly. "This may come as bit of a shock to you, but we're part of an entire underground community, of sorts. We have our own Ministry, just as your world has yours, our own laws and regulations, and our laws stipulate that we have to keep our existence a secret. For the most part. We cannot get involved in your politics, your wars, any of your affairs…"

"Oh." Renee stammered, not sure what else to say to all of this, her mind still struggling to wrap her head around the fact that witches, wizards, _magic_ , all existed.

Renee heaved a heavy sigh and carded her fingers through her hair, her blonde locks sticky every which way as she entangled her hands in her hair, her nervous habit whenever she was freaked out about something and needed to think things through.

They spent a few moments in silence, before the man, Mr. Weasley, spoke up. His brow was furrowed in contemplative thought, a grim expression on his otherwise kind face.

"You mentioned needing to find Remus Lupin. He's downstairs," he explained, noting the confused look etched on Renee's pale features. "But why? And…pardon us, I _do_ believe we forgot to introduce ourselves. How _rude_ of us, I apologize. I'm Arthur. And that's Hermione Granger. Her parents are Mugg—like _you_ , so if there's anything you don't understand or need explaining, Hermione will be more than happy to answer any questions you might have while you're here, won't you, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione gave a nod and offered a light smile to Renee, though Renee could already tell it didn't meet her light brown eyes.

"Sure," she said warmly. "I'd be happy to. I know this is all probably overwhelming and confusing, but it'll get better, Miss…?"

Renee cursed herself inside her head as she realized she had been rude in not telling her name, now that she knew these two at least, meant her no harm and seemed kind enough.

She couldn't speak for that dark-haired fellow downstairs, or to this Lupin man once he learned his wife would be arrested, but something within her gut told her she could trust these two.

"R—Renee," Renee offered up, at last, her voice warbling as she did so and her hands were still shaking. "Renee B…Barreau," she swallowed nervously. "I—I was supposed to find your Lupin to—to deliver a message, from his wife, I guess."

" _Tonks_?" Hermione blurted out unexpectedly, her mouth dropping open in shock. Renee let out a muffled squeak and shirked backward as the young brunette suddenly leaned forward until the tip of her nose was practically touching Renee's.

"Y— _yeah_ ," Renee stammered, feeling her shoulders hunch together in nervous anticipation like she was trying to disappear inside of herself.

This was a pretty huge bombshell she was about to drop, and if that lady cop— _a magical witch_ , she had to remind herself with widened eyes—who had _saved_ her life, really had been arrested by those guys in the alleyway, and if she was _friends_ with all of these people in this bloody house, then there was no telling how the rest of these guys were going to react.

"Where is she? H—has something… _happened_?" Hermione spoke up in a hushed whisper, lifting her head, and it didn't take a genius for Renee to see as the girl her age lifted her chin slightly, jutting it out to meet Renee's gaze with her own, that this Tonks lady in the alleyway that had saved her life tonight was a friend of this girl's.

Renee exhaled a tense breath by puffing out her cheeks and it seemed to take her an eternity to find her voice.

She wasn't exactly sure how to phrase this next part, but she supposed she was going to need to tell them the truth at some point.

"Yeah." Sanguinely, Renee lifted her chin and met both Hermione Granger and Arthur Weasley's concerned faces, looks of abject horror and growing despair within their eyes.

Renee let out a tiny groan and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, steeling herself.

_Here it goes_.

"Look, guys, I dunno how to tell you this, but…um...your friend, the witch. Tonks? She's been arrested."


	11. Chapter 11

At the sound of approaching footsteps coming from the upstairs of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Remus immediately tore his brooding gaze away from the flickering flames of the fireplace, baby Teddy was sound asleep in his arms, Molly keeping him company.

He had searched the entirety of the lower level of the house, that blonde woman who had unceremoniously and rather clumsily fallen through the kitchen ceiling had been nowhere to be found, so he could only conclude she'd gone upstairs, and he was right.

Every muscle in his body tensed as he silently handed Teddy off to Molly, who gently took the sleeping baby from Lupin and adjusted baby Teddy's swaddling, settling herself back in the rocking chair she had conjured with a wave of her wand by the mantle.

Lupin felt his gaze immediately flit to the blonde she-stranger, and then to Mr. Weasley and Hermione, both of whom cast wary but sympathetic glances toward the girl.

_Muggle_ , he caught Arthur mouthing silently, and Remus felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

Remus closed his eyes in tired exasperation as he heard Sirius's thunderous voice coming from the entryway. _Great_ , he thought bitterly. _The last thing we need right now..._

" _You_ ," Padfoot's low, rumbling voice reverberated in the living room parlor as his footfalls sounded closer and closer.

Remus slowly turned at the waist just in time to see his best friend's light gray eyes narrow in an uncontrollable, fathomless rage, meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore trailed behind Sirius, his pristine gray robes swishing delicately as he walked behind Black, his withered hands clasped neatly in front of him.

Lupin sent Sirius what he hoped was a cautionary glance out of the corner of his eye as he waved his wand and conjured a steaming cup of tea and a wooden chair from the kitchen, not wanting to walk all the way down the hall to grab what it was he wanted.

"Why don't you have a seat, miss? We—we did not mean to frighten you earlier. Sirius here did not mean to threaten you, it is not like him at all, you will have to find it within yourself to forgive his behavior, miss," Remus added darkly, shooting a disapproving look Sirius's way before returning his attention to the girl. "You're looking a little bit pale," he murmured quietly, forcing his attention to return to that of the young blonde, who, now that Remus was getting a good enough look at her, was looking utterly _terrified_ and out of her wits, because of him, his scars, what he was, though she knew not what he was, not truly, and he felt a pang of pity tug at his heartstrings at seeing the glimmering, unshed moisture in her bright blue eyes, seeing her hair so disheveled.

The woman now standing before the select few of them was dressed like any other witch or wizard you would find on the streets of London. She was casual but smartly dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and small stud earrings, two in each ear. Her face was made up, but not overdone, her short blonde hair cut in a pixie.

Yet somehow, Remus was drawn to watch her. He frowned, thinking that his first initial impression of the girl who'd fallen through Sirius's kitchen ceiling was that she did not appear to be that much younger than his wife. Maybe a year or two, at best.

The she-stranger continued to look around the living room, her eyes darting this way and that, in every direction, and she refused to meet Lupin's gaze or look at anyone.

Her face was growing paler and paler by the second, and she swayed on the spot, and Remus took a cautious half-step forward, thinking that the poor girl might get sick.

As the young blonde girl slowly lifted her chin and at last, dared to meet Lupin's questioning gaze, almost instantaneously, she seemed to shrink into her black leather jacket as much as she could.

A cold sweat had started glistening on her furrowed brows. With her hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach, the poor girl constantly fiddled with her knuckles, weaving her fingers in and out of each other in anticipation.

The tension in the room of Grimmauld Place was almost unbearable, and the silence thick and uncomfortable, until the she-stranger spoke.

"A—are you…Mr. Lupin? S—some lady in Echo Alley n—named Tonks sent me to find you." Her voice was faint, her words were like the wind, and if Remus had not already been hanging onto her every word, then Remus was sure he'd have missed it.

Something about the way the blonde said his name only seemed to put Remus more on edge, and he furrowed his brows, casting quizzical glances towards Arthur and Hermione, both of whom wore grim expressions on their faces, and it suggested to Lupin they knew more about her sudden arrival than he did, and he decided he didn't like it.

The girl was looking at him with what he only perceived as apprehension in her eyes, a sudden nervousness that, in Remus's mind, seemed entirely out of place tonight, though he was not fooled, as her blue eyes widened in shock and fear as they grazed over the horrific pink, red, and white jagged lines of the grotesque scars on his face.

"Yes," he murmured lowly, feeling the onset beginnings of a panic attack, sensing something had to be wrong with his wife.

_Dora probably sent her_ ; his conscience rationalized. _She—she's in trouble. It's the only plausible explanation for all of this…._

Remus swallowed down hard past the growing lump in his throat, and as he felt his lips part open to speak, to demand this stranger who had fallen through Sirius's kitchen ceiling tell him what happened to his wife. If Dora had indeed sent her here, Sirius's voice, clipped, curt, and angered, rent the otherwise silent, tense atmosphere.

"What are _you_ doing here, _Death Eater_?" Sirius growled in his low, booming bark that sounded more animalistic and accusatory, and quite frankly, not like him at all.

The young woman immediately became smaller under Sirius's scrutinizing gaze, and if it was at all possible, her blue eyes widened and grew even rounder in shock.

"M— _me_?" she squeaked sharply, her voice reaching a pitch that was most uncomfortable for Remus's heightened sense of hearing, thanks to the Wolf within him.

Sirius furrowed his brows in a frown and took a half-step forward, crossing his arms over his chest and stowing his wand in an interior pocket of his crisp maroon jacket. As he took a step towards their intruder that had fallen through his ceiling, she immediately took a faltering step back, and would have stumbled over the leg of an armchair had Hermione not shot out an arm to catch her and shoot Sirius a glower.

"Sirius, she's a _Muggle_ ," Hermione emphasized darkly, taking a step forward and planting her feet firmly in the path between the girl and Sirius. "Tonks sent her."

Arthur Weasley strode forward and clamped down onto the young blonde's shoulders, preventing her from moving or making a second attempt at escaping.

Remus could tell by the withering look the youthful blonde shot the patriarch of the Weasley family that she did not appreciate being grabbed in such a way, but nor did she fight him on it. She merely proceeded to close her eyes slowly and could only stand still. Perhaps she realized that she was severely outnumbered now that Sirius, Remus, Hermione, Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore, and Molly had all joined the girl in the living room parlor.

Sirius approached the young blonde slowly and cautiously, causing the Muggle girl who had fallen through his bloody kitchen ceiling to shrink even further against Mr. Weasley's form, not even giving a damn that Arthur was essentially a stranger to her.

Black let out a low, threatening warning growl deep from within the confines of his chest, and now that he had a clear view of this young woman, stranger or not, he could clearly see the terror rise from within the girl at being in a precarious position. His unblinking, gray eyes ran up and down her slender form.

The girl's large blue eyes looked to anywhere but Sirius in a rapidly swelling panic.

Her limbs flew over her head to try to mask her face from Sirius, no doubt thinking she was about to be attacked by Sirius again, though he was not about to point his wand at her throat again.

_Not with Dumbledore here_ , he thought darkly, but he wanted bloody answers. Who _was_ this girl, _why_ had she fallen through his stupid ceiling, and _how'd_ she know Tonks?

For all _he_ knew, this could be a Death Eater's trap, she could be a plant within their ranks. Bloody hell, she might not even _be_ a Muggle. This could all just be a _lie_! The girl's arms shook violently. She was truly bloody terrified of him.

Of _all_ of them. Sirius swore he heard the young blonde let out an agonized little whimper of fear. For many seconds, the girl simply stared at Sirius in shock, unblinking and afraid, her brilliant sky-blue eyes shining with dismay and dread at what was to come to her. Sirius felt heavy as his feet remained firmly cemented on the hardwood floor of the living room parlor. Sudden onset of sympathy and guilt-wracked through him.

Like it or not, and Death Eater, witch, or Muggle, or not, this young blonde woman was a human being. And she had, judging by the look in her eyes, lived through an antagonizing world of hurt and anguish, much as he had following his arrest for Pettigrew's 'murder' and spent twelve years of his life in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit.

And Sirius decided he was not about to continue that scorn, but he needed the truth, and he needed to know it _now_. His cousin had sent her. And for what purpose?

Sirius could not afford to take any chances with this blonde little she-stranger, especially not since the little slip of a thing had been able to take advantage of him and had gotten one over on him by breaking his nose the Muggle way.

Sirius swore he felt his newly-mended nose a painful twitch at the fresh, unpleasant memory as it flitted through his mind, and he scrunched his nose in disgust and pulled a face at the girl.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Sirius forced himself to return to something else and took in the details of their tiny and unexpected guest this evening.

She was around Tonks's height and figure, he supposed. Straw-blonde hair cut short, her pale features fine and delicate, her clothes casual but well cared for.

As Sirius reached out a hand and cupped the stranger's chin in his calloused hand and tilted it upward, forcing the girl to meet his gaze, the sheer unbridled terror laced within her pale blue eyes struck Sirius Black with such an unexpected force, it felt as though he had been branded by Lord Voldemort's Dark Mark as a fire burned within.

"Who _are_ you?" he growled, leaning down, causing the young blonde to shrink even further into Mr. Weasley's chest until the tip of his nose was almost touching hers.

She raised a pointed, shaking hand and gestured towards Remus, who could not explain it, this sudden stab of fear that pricked at his heart, and her next words chilled the blood in his veins to ice.

The young blonde woman turned towards Remus, almost too slowly to be normal, her nervous gaze flitting between Lupin and Sirius, as she took a faltering step backward.

When she spoke and addressed Remus, her voice trailed slowly, like her words were unwilling to take flight.

There was a sadness in her eyes, the blue too glossy. "I—it's about his _wife_ , sir," the girl cried out hoarsely. "Look, guy," she squeaked in a high-pitched voice that bordered on the edge of hysteria, and Lupin bit down hard on his bottom lip, simultaneously not _wanting_ to know what happened to Dora and at the same time _needing_ to know, as he needed air to breathe. "I—I don't know how to tell you this, b—but y—your wife, she—she's been arrested, Mr. Lupin."

Beneath his feet, the wooden floor felt soft, not as much as even a firm carpet, but not right for oak planks either. Lupin staggered towards the edge of the room, one arm shot out, his hand alongside the wall to brace himself, Sirius right behind him.

Padfoot was saying something to him in a muffled voice. "…not right, we'll figure this _out_ , Moony," he was murmuring to Lupin in the shell of his ear, one hand alongside the small of Lupin's back, ready to help his best mate in case he felt faint.

There was a distance in Lupin's eyes as he took a few faltering steps backward as his mind struggled to process the young blonde woman's words to him just now.

He felt his light brown eyes glaze over, he was in shock he could recognize it. When he spoke, his voice came out thin and distant.

"What, but no, it didn't, tha—that's not right…" He was breathing all wrong, beginning to gasp like there wasn't enough oxygen in the air to return to his lungs, and he thought he might be sick. _"What_?" Remus shouted, seizing on tufts of his light brown hair, and tugging on them so hard that the roots screamed in protest. "Th—that's _not_ possible. No. _No_ , it's not _right_. You— _you lie_ ," he growled, feeling the Mad Beast within the confines of his chest growl and roar his displeasure, as the shadow of the Wolf crossed his pale face.

The horrible thoughts were accelerating inside his head, even as he heard the muffled voice of Sirius, sounding as though he were speaking to him from underwater, command him to sit down before he passed out, and he felt a pair of rough, calloused hands grip onto both of his shoulders, and steer him backward and into a leather chair.

Remus wanted them to slow down so he could breathe, these thoughts, but they wouldn't.

This...this _had_ to be a lie. A _trick_. His breaths came in short, gasping spurts, and it felt like he was going to pass out or be sick. His heart was hammering inside his chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin.

The room spun and he collapsed back against the backrest of the armchair, trying to make the swirling vortex of dark thoughts in his mind slow to something that his brain and body could cope with.

Merlin's Beard, but he felt so _sick_. He wanted to send a Patronus to someone at the Ministry and demand they tell him what happened.

But he didn't know who to ask. Kingsley? The Minister? Someone else?

Tonks was _gone_ , too far away, _arrested_ , she went, just breathe, gone, where is she, too far away, blackness…blackness…creeping blackness.

Lupin buried his head in his hands and carded his fingers through his thick tuft of light brown hair in anguish.

Where is she, what's his own bloody name, who to send a Patronus to, where is she, is she hurt? Tonks was supposed to be home at eleven. No Patronus, no letter via owl post, no nothing. She—she's dead. Has to be. Gone. Arrested?! It couldn't be. No.

She—she had been killed in action somehow. She's _hurt_. Tonks was bleeding. Merlin's Beard, but his wife _needed_ him by her side, and he was not even there for her! Remus wanted to hold Dora's hand; she couldn't die _alone_ in some dank alleyway if a Death Eater had gotten her. He—he needed to send someone a message. An invisible hand clamped over his mouth, an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces his heart, unloading it in an instant. Remus felt his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs, and not even Padfoot's hand on his shoulder was able to calm him down.

His head was a myriad of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind further into a black abyss as he thought of Dora.

His wife, the mother of their child, had—had been _arrested_?! _Why_? _How_?

Lupin wanted to run; he needed to freeze. Sounds that were near sounded and felt far away, like he was no longer in the body that lay collapsed against the leather armchair.

Sanguinely, Lupin lifted his head, and before he could fathom what was happening, heard the Mad Beast within the confines of his chest let out a low growl.

" _You lie_ ," he snarled, bolting from the chair Sirius had shoved him so fast that he almost overturned it, and rapidly closed off the gap of space between himself and the young blonde, as now it was his turn to get up close and personal with their 'guest.'

Remus heard the Wolf within him growling and roaring its displeasure at his wife not by his side, seizing fistfuls of the blonde woman's t-shirt and leather jacket, and shook her slightly, ignoring Arthur and Hermione's collective looks of displeasure.

Every word this blonde girl had uttered so far to him stung, only fueling the fire that burned inside of Remus.

Every violated phrase was like oil poured on the water before a lit match was tossed. His fists clenched and he felt his jaw rooted shut, molars grinding.

He could feel his temper surging to dangerous levels, with no control as objects in Number 12, Grimmauld Place's living room levitated and broke quickly.

Lupin heard the young blonde let out a terrified squeak and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and turned her head sharply to the left to avoid looking him in the eye.

Burning rage hissed through his body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence, and Remus could no longer focus on anything around him but making this young girl talk, and tell him the truth. _Now_.

He held out one of his hands in anger. Pulsing from his own fingertips was a strange, glowing red light. He watched it flicker for a moment, transfixed and awed. The strange light changed colors, from amber to ruby, and then back to red. Remus clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palms as his nonverbal magic threatened to implode, surging his veins hotter than any dragon fire could flame.

This was _not_ supposed to happen, not like _this_ , but what was he going to do? It was too late to stop the storm that was erupting within him, changing him, as he allowed the Wolfs' volatile temper within him to take control as his mind struggled to process what had happened to his beloved wife and the mother of their precious son.

It was a volcano erupting, fury sweeping off of Lupin in ferocious waves. The wrath at not knowing what had happened to the love of his life consumed, engulfing his moralities, and destroying his boundaries of loyalties. He wanted Dora and Merlin help this girl if she was _lying_ , if she was not _stupid_ , then she'd better _start talking_ or—

Though Remus's violence was quickly tampered down as Professor Dumbledore, who had been seated in an armchair of his own closer to the lit fireplace in the hearth, and had been twirling with his wand in between his fingers, immediately rose to his feet, his gray robes fluttering in his haste to defuse the situation before things could escalate any further. The living parlor of Grimmauld Place instantly darkened.

A massive shadow shrouded everything in darkness, as well as everyone, and the shadows snuffed out the few lighted candles and the overhead ceiling light that had been lit. The fire that burned in the hearth even dimmed, diminishing into darkness.

When Albus Dumbledore spoke, his holler reverberated into Remus's eardrums, which were now filled with an aching, horrible fatigued ringing that it was all he could focus on as his wolfish vison was splotched with nothing but violent colors of redness in his rage, that it sounded like a clap of thunder, such was Professor Dumbledore's anger.

His was a roar of immense displeasure at how Remus was handling the situation.

"Remus John Lupin, I do believe that is quite enough of that!" Albus commanded, his jaw muscles tightening, clenching his withered hands into fists at his side, and slowly, the blackness dissipated from the living room's parlor. The fire blazed back to life and the candles were re-lit.

The other members of the Order of the Phoenix, save for Remus, who remained unstirred and unfazed by the Hogwarts Headmaster's outburst of anger, held equally stunning looks of disbelief, fear, and panic plastered on all of their faces, but especially the young blonde Muggle girl's, whose blue eyes threatened to pop out of her skull, and probably would have if she had been a witch unable to control her magic.

Albus strode towards Remus, Arthur, and the young blonde and firmly but gently set a hand on the young blonde's shoulder, offering the frightened girl what he hoped was a reassuring smile before rounding on Remus and gently pulling him away from Mr. Weasley and the young blonde.

"What is the _meaning_ of this _atrocious_ display, Remus? I would have expected behavior like this from Mr. Black, but _never_ you," he admonished, ignoring Sirius's growing look of outrage. "This is _not_ the way," Albus warned, the edges of his normally soft and quiet voice hardened and clipped as he fixed Remus with a piercing blue stare, peering at Remus over the edge of his half-moon silver spectacles. "You would do well to control yourself right now, Remus."

There was a horrible, gut-wrenching yell of anguish from deep within the forced its way from Lupin's mouth as if his terrified and angry soul had unleashed a demon. All he felt was anger at this monstrous betrayal, that this woman was lying to him. Tonks could not be in jail. This had to be a mistake, a cruel trick of what few Death Eaters were left following Lord Voldemort's defeat.

It just _had_ to be. She—she couldn't…

Even as he glowered at the young blonde, Remus knew that he was hiding the truth from himself as he met the young woman's terrified, wide, sky-blue orbs.

That she was telling Lupin and the rest of the Order who had gathered here in the living parlor the _truth_. Yet, his fists clenched up and his teeth locked up in rancor once the sound was out.

Dumbledore, still sensing danger brewing within his Order member, continued. "We _will_ find out the truth of what happened to your wife, Remus," he sighed in an exasperated, exhausted tone as he lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "But the poor dear is already frightened enough, can you not see that? Losing your temper and demanding answers is not how to do it. We must treat this situation delicately until we learn the full truth of what has happened here tonight, and if you cannot find it within yourself to tamper down your temper, then you cannot stay, and if you frighten this girl any _more_ than she already _is_ , I fear for her ability to cope with what has happened to her. She is a Muggle and is very clearly _frightened_ and has gone through a difficult ordeal that _no_ Muggle woman should _ever_ have to endure, and if you _cannot_ control your temper while we attempt to learn what has happened, then I am afraid that I will have to ask you to _leave_ , for your own good, Remus," Albus Dumbledore grumbled in a tone that suggested he was still immensely displeased, though his threat at possibly having to evict Lupin from the room lingered.

Remus bit the inside wall of his cheek, and instead turned his back on the rest of the room and stared into the depths of the lit fire as though he could not hear Albus, collapsing into the armchair and buried his face in his hands, feeling like he was going to be physically ill.

He…he had lost his temper and had almost done irreparable harm to an innocent young woman, who had only been sent here as a messenger on Dora's behalf.

As the memory of seeing his wife Apparate and running back up the front steps of their cottage to plant her forgotten goodbye kiss on his lips, and seeing her turn her head one last time and shoot him that dazzlingly brilliant white smile that never failed to make his heart flutter, Remus felt as though someone had plunged a knife in his chest.

His stomach lurched and twisted violently as coils in his gut, further worsening his sick feeling, and Lupin swore he tasted bitter acidic stomach bile as it crept up his throat and lingered, settling upon his tongue that he was forced to swallow it back.

Lupin knew that his mind needed to ingest the young blonde's words further until he could find it within himself to accept it, that it had happened, though he did not want to. Dora had been _arrested_. But _why_? What could have caused Tonks to send _her_?

"Albus, I…I did not _mean_ this, you _know_ that, I didn't," he started to say, though his voice cracked and broke as it trailed off. He could not recall the last time he had fully lost his temper like that.

Maybe when Harry and Sirius had collectively joined upon him when he had expressed fears and concerns over learning that his wife was pregnant with his child at the time, but… It was a feeling that Lupin knew he hated and did not like it in the slightest.

He drew in a hitched breath and tried to calm himself, tugging on locks of his hair, his fingers sticky every which way as he forced his breaths to regulate back to normal, but they just wouldn't. His lungs felt on fire, and he thought he might vomit.

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Remus tried to force himself to calm down, but he couldn't. Not when visions of his wife's lovely and perfect face flitted through the forefront of his tormented mind, and Lupin let out a mournful whimper and kept his face buried in his hands, trying hard to make this _stop_ , that this was all just a nightmare.

He had _sworn_ he would always be by her side, through good times and the bad, the night that he had married her, and Remus had broken his promise for the first time tonight.

He—he was not there next to Dora's side. How could his wife possibly trust him now that he had betrayed his wife's trust? Tonks's sole belief in him that acted as one of the sole bedrocks of their marriage. A quiet, mournful, half-choked sob escaped past Lupin's lips and he felt his shoulders tremble and heave as he allowed himself a moment to lose his composure, in the hopes that by allowing himself to feel it, he'd have it back.

Lupin knew there would be no sleep tonight. Not when the love of his life rested behind a cold prison cell that smelled of death and despair, in the company of Dementors and Merlin only _knew_ who _else_ she would run into while inside Azkaban.

Not when he had betrayed the one person in his entire life besides Teddy now that made it worth living. He had to get his wife out of here, but _how_?! And _when_?! Remus blinked as he heard Professor Dumbledore give a light little cough, and he blearily lifted his head through his hazed vision and tried to focus his gaze more than a few feet in front of himself as he watched as the Hogwarts Headmaster addressed her.

"I apologize for my colleague's behavior; I can assure this is _not_ Mr. Lupin's usual temperament. The man himself is quite kind and polite normally, timid, even, and Remus means you no harm, my dear. He is…under a fair amount of stress, as I am sure you can imagine, my dear, the emotional blow that you have dealt us all just now by informing us that one of our own has been falsely imprisoned is quite distressing indeed, however, I am sure that this is just a mistake and we will rectify it as soon as we are able, and therefore, there was no need for Remus to react so poorly towards you, my dear," Albus began, throwing a withering look Remus's way, who felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up, though he offered up no apology to the young blonde, though, in time, he wondered if he ought to. "Remus will conduct himself _accordingly_ going forward, or he shall soon find himself _removed_ from the premises while we get to the bottom of what happened to you tonight, my dear lady. I understand that you must be very frightened, but I am afraid that you have the information that we need, but first and foremost, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry here in Great Britain, a school of magic for young boys and girls who possess magical talents. The school offers these individuals a chance to hone their skills, to grow and develop into mature young adult witches and wizards and thrive in our society. At least, I _hope_ that it does," he mumbled cheerily, almost as an afterthought, though Dumbledore's expression once again turned grim as he laced his fingers together and fixed the girl with a pointed stare. "Now that you know who _I_ am, my dear, I am no longer a stranger to you, but I am afraid that the one question remains, that I don't know _your_ name, so I must ask…Who are _you_?"

* * *

Renee was so damned _confused_. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore, and he was spouting words like Hogwarts, witches, wizards, and apologizing for his friend's behavior, when in reality, it was Mr. Lupin himself who needed to apologize to her, she thought angrily, grinding her teeth in nervous anticipation, feeling sweat beading on her brow.

Renee clenched her fists tightly until her nails dug into the palm of her hands, but she barely noticed it. The only thing she was really aware of, was the sound of her heart throbbing against the cage of her chest, and she was sure slick tears would pour from her eyes at any minute. The lady's husband had made things in this room _float_!

A—and _then_ this old man had almost caused a literal thunderstorm in the room just now and had sent the entire room into darkness and made his voice so loud she would have sworn he was talking with a megaphone.

It wasn't until Renee caught sight of her reflection in a small little half mirror hung on the wall to her immediate left that she became aware that she had been biting down so hard on her lip that it was bleeding.

Renee was so damned bloody and utterly _confused_ by the old man's question, and not to mention, downright terrified at all the crap that had happened to her tonight.

Well, perhaps not by the question itself, but rather of the man himself. Despite his oldness and appearance of frailty, she had just witnessed firsthand for herself that there was more to this wizard than meets the eye, that he could handle himself well.

Her gaze flitted towards the female cop's husband, paranoid of the towering tall man's sudden shift in countenance as the man with the light brown hair and scars all along his face collapsed into an armchair and buried his face in his hands, letting out a noise that sounded like a wounded dog after its master had kicked it, almost a yelp of pain.

For a moment, Renee wondered if this stranger had ever lost his composure like this before. She was quick to decide he must not have because everyone else in the room nervously shifted their weight from where they stood from one spot to the other.

And everyone was actively averting each other's gazes. The man's shoulders began to slump and shake, the whimpering emitting from his lips growing worse, and Renee suddenly felt a stab of pity for this stranger prick at her heartstrings as it lurched.

This man was someone's _partner_ , someone's _husband_ , and he had just learned that his wife had been arrested tonight for a crime that she did not commit.

Renee would probably break down into tears herself if this had happened to someone she knew. As she watched the man sit so defeated and unstirred in his chair, she felt as though she were intruding upon something private and did not want to look at him.

And yet, Renee could not manage to find it within herself to turn away. Just a moment ago, this man had looked as though he had been about to murder here right here in the living room parlor, whether it was by his wand or his own two hands, Renee didn't know, and nor could she bloody bring herself to care about it.

The man made a muffled little whining noise, a truly horrible noise, a broken, mournful whimper, like a dog whining or something, from the back of his throat as the other dark-haired stranger, the very same one who had held the wand to her throat earlier, now that she knew that's what that weapon actually was, and not some bizarre wooden knife, moved to rest on top of the armchair and whispered something to him.

He had stopped in what he was about to do only when this strange, eccentric Professor Dumbledore character had yelled at him and caused the whole room to darken. The man lifted his head sanguinely and turned his head slowly to look at her.

Renee drew in a sharp breath that pained her bruised ribcage from where she had fallen on top of the table as she truly got a first good look at the woman's partner. The young blonde froze when she met the man's gaze with her own, and she tried her hardest to quell the gasp of shock and fear as she looked at his face, but couldn't, and she swore she heard the man whimper before the man looked away.

Though it was already too late to take it back. Renee felt her knuckles go white as she stared at the man face, or more specifically, at the scars diagonal along his face.

There were three of them. Grotesque, monstrous in every way, shape, and form. Her first thought of the man was his poor face looked like one of those Halloween rubber masks, the scars on his face some kind of movie prosthetics or something because nothing so grotesque looking could be so... _real_ , right?

But as Renee met the man's gaze, she knew this not to be the case. This man's scarred face was very real, very grotesque, and a sight to behold.

Three long jagged scars snaked down diagonally on his face, starting at just above his browbone and working its way down until it reached the corner of his lip, which tugged it down slightly in a minor grimace.

They were unusual looking scars, an odd mixture of bright white and light pink, Renee thought. Grotesque looking upon first glance, and Renee visibly flinched as she shirked away, hoping that she did not look to the man as though she were recoiling in fear or disgust, though the shockingness of the scars was not enough to hide the simple fact that the man was, in her mind, not exactly what she would describe as a 'looker.'

Definitely not handsome, but rugged. This stranger, Remus Lupin, carried himself with a quiet, reserved manner, and, were these different circumstances, Renee wondered if he could be quite kind enough, though Renee was not soon to forget how just not even a second ago, he had almost _murdered_ her and probably would have succeeded were it not for the old man putting a stop to it when he had and calming down the worst of this scarred man's _horrible_ temper.

The skin around the man's scars was also slightly discolored, suggesting that it did not heal properly. Renee watched as Mr. Lupin slowly unclenched one of his fists curled tightly around the arm of the chair and lightly brushed it down the scars on his face, tracing the jagged line slowly with the tips of his fingers.

He let out a tired sigh and another broken mewling whimper that sounded like a mortally wounded animal escaped his lips as the man practically curled in on himself and tried to process what had just happened.

The man bit his lip and hung his head in shame, though whether or not he felt any remorse for the despicable way that he had behaved towards her just now, or whether he was expressing his anguish at what had happened to his wife, Renee didn't know.

She watched, waiting with bated breath, as the man with the horrible scars on his face blearily lifted his head and met her gaze, and she was surprised at how pale and peaky he looked. He looked downright _ill_ , as though he had not slept or eaten in days, maybe weeks.

Renee did not even want to comment on how much of a _leech_ she thought this guy was, as the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up as the man with the scars took a moment to look up and down the entire length of her body, paying more attention to certain features than the young blonde restaurant worker thought was necessary now.

She bristled, curling her fingers into the palm of her hand, hard enough that her nails almost pierced the sensitive skin hard enough to bleed as she gritted her teeth in ire.

It hurt, though she was able to push past the pain and ignore it.

"What happened to my _wife_?" the man called Lupin demanded in a low growl.

She blinked at the harshness of Lupin's words, at how hardened the edges of his voice sounded and how, as he lifted his chin and looked at her, he almost looked…barbaric.

_Wolfish_ , even, Renee would go that far as to describe the strange lady's husband, and the pitiful whimpers he was emitting reminded her of a wounded dog.

Was this guy bloody _serious_?! This man didn't really expect her to provide him with an adequate answer, did he, after what he and his best mate had both attempted to do to her? How the bloody hell was she supposed to give an answer after what had happened?

Renee could barely stop her stupid hands from shaking or draw in a breath in an attempt to calm down her racing heart, so damned audibly loud as it thrummed relentlessly against its cage that she was surprised the kind, red-haired man named Mr. Weasley, who was still maintaining a firm grip on her shoulders, couldn't hear it for himself, or the young woman who was close to her age.

_Hermione, her name is Hermione_ , her conscience reminded her, though Renee brushed away the voice inside.

Both of those guys, bloody hell, _everyone_ in this living room parlor scared the _hell_ out of her, except for Arthur and Hermione, as they had, so far, been the only ones tonight in this cursed house to show her any semblance of decency and kindness so far.

She blinked owlishly at the Tonks' lady's husband, whose expression was growing more and more annoyed and desperate the longer his gaze lingered upon her eyes.

It was as though this Lupin man was desperately searching her eyes for the truth as to what had happened to his wife, though the plain truth of the matter was, Renee didn't bloody know!

This man had _scared_ her half to death, and now he expected her to just talk?! She gulped nervously, though she could not seem to tear her gaze away.

Something about the sadness within the man's light brown eyes pulled at her, and Renee wasn't sure what to do in this situation.

Her mind felt like it was _reeling_ , and a horrible headache pounding at the front of her temples and at the back of her skull where she had hit her head earlier on the kitchen table.

Renee felt like her heart was going to give out on her at any second because of all the stress, fear, and adrenaline surging through her veins, and she wondered for a second if this was how the Morning Killer killed them.

If it were possible that you could die from fright, as all of his victims held similarity in how they died: a look of horror on their faces, their eyes wide open in shock. _Could_ she? And even if she could, how long would it take? A few seconds, a few minutes? An hour? Would it be painful? Would she die instantly, or would it take ages?

Renee bit down hard on her bottom lip, knowing that she had to stop all these panicked streams of steady thoughts before they really _did_ end up killing her.

But Renee wasn't sure if she even _could_.

"I…I…I don't know…" Renee cringed, not even sure at this point if she was trying to speak or just making noises like a strangled attempt at speech.

The violent trembling in her hands was becoming worse, not even curling onto the strap of her purse for support was helping to quell the tremors like it usually did. Renee could feel the pulsating travel from her hands, up her arms, and down her spine.

Panic clawed at her throat for a third time tonight as her throat hollowed and constricted, and it felt like all the air to her passageways had been abruptly cut off, depriving her lungs, which felt on fire, of much-needed oxygen.

With all of the running and hiding she had done within the last half hour or however bloody long, she had been trapped inside of this stupid haunted house that creaked and groaned and had a mind of its own, and the strange women and men with knives that she now knew were _wands_ , coupled with the fact that she had witnessed for herself with her own two eyes, that magic, the kind she had read about in books and seen on movies and tv shows were real, and…and…

This particular man with the grotesque-looking red and pink scars on his face, truly shocking against his pale skin, standing out, _permanent_ ones that looked as though he'd gotten into a knife fight with a guy in a bar or something was demanding of her a question that Renee wasn't sure she could provide an answer to.

Oh, bloody hell, she couldn't _breathe_. She turned her head to the side.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of her as she coughed, panting, and gasping for breath as she raked one hand through her hair, the other resting on her side. It happened so fast; Renee wasn't even sure how it happened. She was not aware of her chest hyperventilating, or her lungs heaving and gasping for air, the wail that she let out as she felt her knees begin to buckle and she dropped to the hardwood floor in a crumpled heap, landing on her knees like a stone.

Renee blinked and continued to stare up at this Lupin fellow who had gotten up from his chair and was now standing over her, towering over her at his full height of around 6'3, she guessed. Not handsome, but rugged.

_He's Tonks's husband. Like it or not, that lady did save your life tonight, even if she did make you step inside a trash can lid to get away from those creeps that nabbed her. This guy didn't mean to lose his temper with you, I don't think,_ her conscience reminded her _. Someone's partner, and he's suffering_.

Her mind tried to reason with her, though Renee was past the point of no return. She continued to stare into this wolfish Remus Lupin's eyes, eyeing his somewhat haggard, peaky-looking appearance, though what she was looking for, she didn't know.

And without any warning whatsoever, Renee, from her spot where she now knelt on the floor on her knees, in front of Lupin and the other people now crowded around her, Renee Elizabeth Barreau, surrounded by witches and wizards who were most assuredly going to kill her once she offered up what little information on this lady who had saved her life tonight despite everything that happened, Renee burst into tears…


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur had been watching the scene unfold before him with widened brown eyes, unable to believe the turn of events this otherwise standard night at Headquarters following the commencement of an Order meeting had taken.

Never in his wildest dreams had he even thought that he would witness a young woman, a Muggle no less, fall through Sirius's kitchen ceiling and bring them the grim and shocking news that Tonks had been mistakenly arrested for a crime that she did not commit. When his hands had first clamped down on their she-stranger's shoulders, Mr. Weasley took a faltering step backward and released young Renee Barreau instantly.

In fact, Arthur was so downright _stunned_ and at a total loss for words, still reeling over the fact that he and everyone else in this room had perhaps just witnessed, for the first time, Remus John Lupin losing complete and utter control over his composure, that he had never noticed the young woman in his grasp had started to shake and rather violently at that as she let out what sounded to Mr. Weasley like a half-choked sob of misery, though Arthur's gaze remained steadfast and firmly fixed upon Remus, who stood before the pair of them, looking utterly lost and confused.

Not unlike how Arthur himself was feeling at the moment.

But when the girl's strength in her knees gave out on her and she crumpled in a heap, falling to her knees on the floor in a rather precarious position in front of Lupin, Arthur could not help but notice how _vulnerable_ she was.

Especially when Renee Barreau's shaking intensified to the point where Arthur could see the violent tremors in her hands as she painfully twisted and wrung her hands together incessantly.

Arthur felt like a blind, bloody _fool_ , realizing that his hands were still grasping at open-air, having left his arms hanging suspended in midair for a moment, not even realizing the girl had fallen until she had.

Though before the patriarch of the Weasley family could even think about lowering his hands to his sides and throwing a cautious glance around the living room parlor to see what the others thought about this, and what to do with Remus in the man's emotionally compromised state, he was shocked as the poor, frightened young girl buried her head in her hands and _sobbed_.

Mr. Weasley blinked, reeling backward in shock before slowly lifting his gaze to meet Remus's, who, he could tell, was feeling a pang of immense weighted guilt on his shoulders, no doubt for the despicable way that he had lost his temper towards her just now for reacting to the girl's news.

The full weight of this poor girl's reality crushed in Mr. Weasley's pounding eardrums, and soon, the only thing he could hear aside from the young blonde's muffled sobs was a horrible, fatigued ringing in his eardrums, and instantly, Arthur felt that same crushing sense of guilt.

How could he have not noticed the obvious _fear_ in Miss Barreau's eyes? Muggle or not, she had gone through an extraordinary amount in the span of just a single evening, events that no young woman, witch, Muggle, or Squib, should _ever_ have to go through, and with little explanation as to why they were happening to her, the sheer shock of learning that magic in her world existed, coupled with the distressing events of watching Remus Lupin's wife be falsely arrested for something she did not commit, and then for him to be so engrossed in his own world, fretting over thoughts of getting his fellow coworker and Order member out of Azkaban Prison, as well as worrying over her husband's emotional state, had taken precedence in his mind, and Arthur gritted his teeth in annoyance for his lack of compassion.

That was, Arthur surmised, perhaps his and Hermione's first mistake when the two of them had found her in the upstairs storage room, not taking the young blonde's feelings into account, solely focused on finding her and bringing her to Professor Dumbledore for questioning.

The second was failing to take the young woman's feelings and experiences into account.

And as for _Lupin's_ mistake, he was addressing the young woman with such a hostile and formidable approach. He (along with the rest of the Order) knew that Remus was still coming down from his fourth or fifth-day post-transformation cycle for the month, and his mood swings during the four or five days following the monthly full moons were more times often than not, quite erratic, and his moods were often questionable, sometimes, dare he even think, violent.

Remus John Lupin was, by nature, not a violent man at all, in fact, he was proven to be quite kind, once you got to know the man better. Quiet, reserved, with a certain quietness and a calmness that Arthur had somewhat always envied within the man, his ability to be so peaceful.

Though Arthur had to remind himself, Remus had not had to grow up in the company of _seven_ children to raise, with the twins' behavior constantly getting under his skin, though he had a feeling that, given Remus's reputation throughout Hogwarts as one of the Marauders, and combined with Tonks's natural 'talent for trouble,' as Lupin was often fond of teasing his wife, Mr. Weasley had a feeling that Teddy, once he was of Hogwarts age and attending school, would give both of his parents a run for their money in terms of just how much trouble he could get into.

At the moment, however, Remus had _threatened_ this young woman, unintentionally or not, as his tired mind had struggled to process the news that his wife was wrongfully incarcerated.

Remus John Lupin was many things, Arthur watched, as a muscle in the man's jaw twitched as he stared down his nose at the kneeling young blonde on her knees on the floor.

Arthur watched as Remus made an odd little strangled noise at the back of his throat, making a sudden movement as though Lupin wanted to outstretch his arm and help the young woman off from her place on the floor and grip onto Renee Barreau's shoulder, but Lupin must have thought better.

Remus promptly clamped his mouth shut and turned away from Arthur, Hermione, Dumbledore, Sirius, Molly, and the young woman, his back facing to him, his front facing the lit fire in the fireplace, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath, but Arthur knew him.

It did not take an intellectual genius like Dumbledore to tell that Lupin deeply regretted his actions and was having difficulty coming to terms with what had just happened moments ago. Lupin was a man of many titles.

A werewolf, and a fighter, (and had the dueling trophies in the Hogwarts Trophy Room to prove that claim) a former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, friend, confidant, Order member, mentor, a loving husband and father to his wife, and a brand-new baby. Remus was _not_ , however, a monster and a barbarian, though judging by the look on the young Muggle's face, it was evident to Arthur that she very clearly thought that Remus was, all because of the scars.

Never in his life could Arthur recall a time that Lupin had ever threatened a woman, and the way that Remus had behaved so deplorably just now by allowing his condition to consume the baser instincts of his wolfish personality that Remus attempted to quell and work so hard to repress, was almost unheard of, and poor Arthur still felt rather shellshocked by the turn of events.

Lupin had never acted with such a beastly and disrespectful manner towards a young woman, be she witch, Muggle, or Squib. Remus was considered by many among the Order of the Phoenix to be perhaps the most level-headed, calm, rational, and kindest soul you would ever meet.

He always spoke politely and refrained from saying anything rude while in another's presence.

The closest Mr. Weasley could even come to describing ever seeing Remus as 'annoyed' was the occasional dirty looks he would shoot Sirius if his best friend were ever-annoying him (which was increasingly frequent these days, especially since the birth of baby Teddy, as Sirius constantly made jokes about Remus's son, saying the kid was going to be a heart breaker when he grew up, and making full plans to teach him and Harry's children if the man should ever have anyone day all of the secret passageways throughout Hogwarts) and sometimes a curt, clipped remark.

But he was _never_ rude. Despite his towering size whenever Remus rose to his full height of around 6'2 or 6'3 and the sometimes-intimidating aura he gave off, especially during the approaching times of each month's full moon cycle, most witches and wizards forgot they feared him and what he was.

While his scars were truly grotesque and shocking upon first glance, marring what would have otherwise been, Arthur supposed, a mostly-handsome face were it not for those scars that dragged down the corner of his lip into a permanent, twisted grimace, though Tonks's husband would grace no cover of _Witch Weekly_ , Tonks loved him, and he loved her in return, and that was good enough.

Remus was a man who, thanks to his mother and father's influences growing up, Hope and Lyall Lupin, Remus was a man who was brought up with the highest sense of respect and admiration for witches, women in general, really, which Arthur respected and admired.

Hope, from what Remus had told Arthur once, had seen to that, up until her dying breath when she had passed away from a sickness a few years ago, shortly before Tonks's induction into the Order of the Phoenix and the two of them had been assigned as partners for a year by Dumbledore himself.

Which now, in Arthur's mind, at least, made Remus's actions towards the poor sobbing young blonde on the floor on her knees, not seemingly caring for the dirt and grit of the dusty hardwood floor that dug into the fabric of her black jeans, had been nothing short of deplorable.

What made matters even _worse_ , Mr. Weasley thought with furrowed brows as his gaze flitted from Remus to the blonde woman on the floor, and then to everyone else in the room, was that no amount of apologies could ever make Lupin's actions towards the girl just now excusable.

Hermione, meanwhile, chose to ignore the completely stupefied expressions of both Remus and Arthur, and immediately acted and knelt on the dirty floor next to the young Muggle.

The girl was about Tonks's age, maybe a year or two older, if Hermione had to pinpoint a guess as to the young blonde's age. Hermione bit the inside wall of her cheek as she gingerly outstretched one of her arms, making a sudden move as if to lay her hand on Renee Barreau's shoulder, and then thought better of it.

Hermione was hesitant to touch the young blonde, afraid she would only succeed in startling the poor Muggle even worse than she already appeared to be and was going to cause a reaction that would ultimately inspire the poor thing to hurt herself.

Yet, Hermione felt that it was her duty, considering she was mostly the one who had found the girl, as well as the simple fact, remained that she was the one closest to the young blonde's own age to try to get her to calm down, and Hermione knew she couldn't just sit here and do nothing.

The girl had been through enough in one night as it was, and Hermione knew she could not add to the young woman's torment if she could help calm her down in some way.

For just a brief moment, she wished that Professor Snape were still here to administer a Calming or a Sleeping Draught to her while the rest of the Order decided what to do with the news that Tonks was now arrested and was seemingly being detained in Azkaban for a crime she did not commit.

Hermione furrowed her brows into a frown as she nervously glanced towards Lupin's now slumped-over form in the armchair that was closest to the lit fire in the hearth, his face buried in his hands, a violent trembling spell overtaking his body.

"Hey," she urged, her voice softer than silk as she felt the blonde arm's immediately shoot up to cover the length of her face. Hermione swore she heard the young Muggle whimper a little as the blonde nervously eyed Hermione's wand, pocketed currently in the front left pocket of her jeans. "I'm _not_ going to hurt you," Hermione said softly in what she hoped was a calm and non-accusatory sounding voice.

The young brunette witch and newest inducted Order member alongside Harry and Ron and Neville glanced behind the room over her shoulder and sent the room an admonishing expression as her lips pursed into such a thin line, that even Harry, who had just entered Headquarters, flinched, wondering what it was his girlfriend was mad about _this_ time, and he shot Sirius and Remus a quizzical expression, parting his lips open slightly to speak, though upon seeing his girlfriend give a curt shake of her head no, he clamped his mouth tightly shut and fell silent, though his curiosity was piqued.

Though it did not escape Hermione's attention how Harry continued to shoot Lupin a furtive, guilty look. Hermione let out a barely audible sigh as she met Harry's gaze and again, shook her head no, not now.

_Later_ , she mouthed, trying to plead to Harry with her eyes not to ask any questions, her gaze flitting nervously from Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, and to Lupin.

The last thing any of them needed, particularly the young woman she was kneeling in front of, was another uncharacteristic outburst from Remus in his emotionally compromised state of mind.

He wasn't thinking clearly at the moment. She felt a stab of pity prick at her heartstrings for her former (and favorite) Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Harry's as well, as she watched Lupin.

Slowly, it was as if Remus could sense Hermione was cautiously eyeing him apprehensively, as he lifted his head and glanced in her general direction with the same disappointing face he had given Harry whenever he was having trouble coming to a particular conclusion on his own.

Hermione could not quite explain it, but just seeing the antagonizing hurting and heartbreak in her former teacher's light brown eyes caused a sudden stinging sensation in her nose and her throat started to tighten and constrict.

Lupin's chest heaved with a quieted, half-choked little sob of misery that not even Sirius's hand on his shoulder as he silently urged his best mate to quit the scene could stop it from happening. Hermione reluctantly tore her gaze away from Remus and Sirius and exchanged incredulous glances with Professor Dumbledore, Molly, and Mr. Weasley.

All of whom, except for perhaps Albus, seemed too wary by the turn of events the night had taken to dare to approach Hermione and Renee Barreau, both of whom still knelt on the floor. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stared, much in the same manner as Remus.

Too shocked at what had happened, at seeing Lupin lose control in that regard to inspire any kind of response, which Hermione thought rather odd. Especially for Molly.

Mrs. Weasley blinked owlishly at the scene unfolding before her, before seeming to recover, at least somewhat, wildly gesturing for Hermione to continue the soothing gestures in the hopes of calming the young blonde Muggle woman down enough to find out the detail of Tonks's arrest while Sirius was looking more angered than startled.

It did not escape Hermione's attention that Sirius Black continuously shot the woman dirty glances from over by the fireplace, standing near the armchair that Remus sat in, the man unstirred and unmoved, that for a moment, Hermione thought Lupin to be carved onto his chair, like a wooden carving or something immaculate and lifeless.

Molly continued to caution Hermione silently against doing anything rash that would further provoke the young blonde woman's emotional stability to worsen.

Even Professor Dumbledore, Hermione could not help but to notice, took a cautious half-step forward to observe the situation playing out, peering at Hermione and Renee Barreau over the rim of his silver half-moon spectacles with his piercing blue orbs.

Yet, the Hogwarts Headmaster seemed content enough to watch for now as the young brunette witch tried her hardest to calm their so-called 'intruder' who had fallen through the ceiling of Sirius's kitchen down from the onset of her little panic attack.

Managing a tiny little curt nod in appreciation for the concern towards the situation and the silent encouragement, Hermione bit the wall of her cheek and slowly, so as to not startle the girl, held out her hand and after a moment's hesitation, Renee accepted her hand and somewhat reluctantly allowed Hermione to help her to her feet.

"See?" Hermione murmured lowly, careful to keep her voice low and what she hoped was a neutral expression on her face. "No one in this room wants to hurt you, Renee. We just want to learn what happened to Mr. Lupin's wife," she added in a cautious tone, her gaze nervously flitting to Remus as she noticed the unnamed mention of Tonks caused the distraught husband and former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor's head to whiplash sharply upward from where he'd buried his head in his hands, carding his fingers through his thick tuft of light brown hair flecked with grey.

Renee, Hermione noticed, kept her head bowed, her sharp profile turned to the right so no one in the room could make sense of the expressions ranging within her eyes.

_But what she must be feeling_! Hermione thought, feeling a pang of pity prick at her heart. She felt so _awful_ , for this woman and for poor Remus. _And Tonks…_

Hermione's stomach gave a painful little lurch and a coil in her gut twisted, and she resisted the urge to smack the palm of her hand against her forehead in self-disgust.

Was she truly so self-absorbed that she could have forsaken Remus's wife and poor baby Teddy's mother?!

To be separated from your family, locked up, and left to rot in a filthy, dirty, stinking jail cell with only a strange cellmate and Dementors for company. Hermione shuddered at the thought of poor Tonks encountering a Dementor.

_Tonks! How could I have forgotten_?! Hermione cursed under her breath and drew in a breath and held it, watching as at first, Renee Barreau did not respond to her.

Hermione emanated a tense, relieved breath through her flared nostrils as she stood rigidly next to the young blonde Muggle woman, listening as her muffled sobs began to fade until they were the occasional sniffle every now and again as she wiped at her nose with the back of her wand until Mr. Weasley was kind enough to wave his wand and conjure a handkerchief and silently hand it to her. The girl took it wordlessly.

Renee's shoulders eventually ceased their violent shaking, Hermione noticed, ever-the-observant one in the Order, just Remus, Arthur, Molly, and the others were.

Hermione parted her lips slightly to speak, though whatever she had been about to say to the Muggle in her early to mid-twenties died on her tongue as she heard Renee Barreau draw in a shaking, tense breath before removing her hands from her pale face.

Her face was splotchy and red from crying, her blue eyes red-rimmed at the irises, and cracked, and her pale blue eyes were lighted with such a fiery rage that Hermione knew at once was going to spell trouble for the Order, and her gaze held her captive.

So much so that Hermione was unable to her gaze away. It was if the young Muggle held her captive there, as if by a witch's curse of her own, some invisible magic.

" _Talk_?" When Renee found her voice, at last, it was rough and coarse, sounding much more subdued than when Mr. Weasley and Hermione had found her hiding behind the dresser upstairs in the storage room, which Hermione thought was strange.

Considering not just a second ago, the young Muggle girl had been near the brink of hysteria and had burst into tears, though as Renee Barreau lifted her chin and sharply regarded both Mr. Weasley and Hermione, with Hermione and Arthur sharing a knowing glance, fully aware she was choosing to ignore everyone else in the room with them as so far, at least in Hermione's knowledge, the two of them had been the only ones to treat the girl with any semblance of kindness, to show her they meant no harm.

Renee Barreau spat the word as though it were poison that had settled on her tongue, a wave of quiet-like anger coloring her otherwise pleasant and slightly Irish accent.

The young blonde woman's voice was so faint, just barely above a whisper, and Hermione knew if she had not already been hanging onto her every word, that she would not have caught it at all, but Hermione and Arthur, sensing imminent danger, could feel the anger underneath bubbling, surging to dangerous levels, threatening to implode as her mind was no doubt feeling overwhelmed and strained as the girl struggled to come to grips with all the strange phenomenon that had happened to her.

Hermione could sympathize. Her reaction when she learned magic was real and that she was going to Hogwarts when she was eleven had been a shock for her and her parents. She stifled the urge to let out a tiny moan as she heard Renee Barreau speak.

"You just want to _talk_ , then, huh?" Renee barked, the edges of her voice clipped and curt, no semblance of the compassion and confused sense of kindness that she had previously exhibited upstairs when around Mr. Weasley and Hermione a little bit ago. "If talking to me is all that you wanted to do then why did _that_ man," she growled, raising a shaking hand and gesturing in the direction of Sirius and Remus, both of whom were looking guilty at her little outburst. Well, more so Remus than Sirius, "point his…his _wand_ at my throat?! _Huh_? More of your _lies_!" Renee yelled angrily.

The young blonde balled her shaking hands into fists at her side and clenched her teeth in her new anger, practically grunting and growling with the effort to stay calm.

She began to restlessly pace the floor of Grimmauld Place's living room in an agitated manner and did not notice Remus Lupin slowly rising from his armchair, his hands held out in front of him in what Hermione could tell he hoped was soothing.

"Calm down," Lupin urged, his inquisitive gaze flitting from Hermione to Arthur in search of her surname, though when neither immediately provided it, he sighed and lowered his hands slightly, pinching at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Permit me, may I call you Renee?" Lupin asked, all traces of anger from his outburst earlier when he had lost his temper with Renee Barreau gone. "Renee."

Remus shot the young blonde woman what he hoped was an apologetic glance, as best as he could with his eyes. "I…apologize for my reaction towards you earlier. I did not…I did not _mean_ for that to happen. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry. I—I know I should not have…reacted the way that I did," he began, a pained look in his eyes, emanating a tense exhale of relief as he watched the girl slowly nod her head in understanding. "Given the circumstances, I would hope that you could find it within yourself to forgive me," he began slowly and cautiously, stifling his urge to roar. "My _wife_ and mother of my two-week-old _son_ is in _jail_ for a crime she _didn't_ commit. I would hope that you can forgive me for not reacting so favorably, Renee," he emphasized darkly through gritted teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, not wanting to envision his sweet love in a rotting, dank, cold prison cell, and not doing a good job of it.

Tonks was in _Azkaban_ and he was not right by her side to help get her out!

Remus swallowed down hard past the growing lump in his throat and waited for her.

When Renee nodded again, his gaze flitted towards Dumbledore, who still wore the passive expression of neutrality on his face, though Remus was not at all fooled. The Hogwarts Headmaster and Order founder was intrigued by her arrival.

Though the young Muggle woman had, it would seem, for the time being, forgiven Remus for his outburst, Lupin was no fool. He could tell just by one look in the young woman's brilliant sky-blue eyes that she had made some judgment of him.

A fact which caused the bitterness within his veins at his condition to soar to new levels, and he cursed himself for earlier. The first few days coming down off of a transformation cycle after a full moon was always the _worst_ for him in terms of mood.

Despite the young blonde nodding at Remus again, silently communicating that she could, in fact, find the inner resolve within herself and attempt to forgive Remus for his behavior, Remus could not help but notice how her fingers tightened slightly on the sleeves of her black leather jacket, proving that his presence right next to her scared her.

The young woman's gaze briefly traveled up and down his body, causing Lupin's face to flush red in embarrassment as she no doubt took sight of his worn but well-cared-for clothing, though the moment her gaze landed on his scars, he ducked his head as a light pink blush flushed his cheeks, hot, embarrassing shame wracking his entire body.

He knew what she saw, and his heart was very nearly crushed on the spot when the young Muggle asked him the one question out of an unbridled sense of curiosity that very nearly crushed poor Lupin's heart right on the spot.

"What _happened_ to you?" Renee Barreau's tone sounded slightly aghast, and the look on her face was almost psychologically disturbed to see such horrific scarring maiming the poor fellow's face.

Renee's first initial thought of Mr. Lupin was that he was not particularly a handsome fellow, but rugged, and still quite young.

Young enough that this wife, Tonks from the alley, to find something about this guy appealing enough to date him and eventually marry, and from the sound of things, have a baby with this man. She pinpointed him somewhere in his mid-thirties if she had to guess, judging by the premature flecks of gray in his brown hair. Renee bristled at the man's silence.

"Did someone _do_ this to you, Mr. Lupin? _Why_?" she demanded, folding her arms across her chest, and glowering at Remus Lupin.

She had _done_ her part, delivered the news to this man that his wife had been wrongfully incarcerated, and the least he could do was answer her question as to why exactly it was that he looked…like _this_.

Like he'd been shanked in an alleyway leaving one of the bars or something by a mugger with a knife, maybe.

Only when Remus hung his head and turned away from everyone in the room did Renee realize she might have said something wrong, and with a look of concern on her face, with furrowed brows, she watched as the dark-haired man, the very same man who'd held the stupid wand to her throat earlier, clapped a hand on the other man's shoulder, saying something in too low a tone for Renee to make any sense of what was said. Lupin could not answer the girl.

He didn't _want_ to answer the young Muggle.

Looking at his face on a regular basis should have been enough. If it weren't for Tonks coming into his life so unexpectedly, literally falling into it, he remembered, the ghost of an affectionate smile snaking its way along his face, and he winced as the skin near his lip where the scars tugged his mouth slightly downward twitched and pulled.

If it were not for his wife entering his life when she had, tripping over the top step of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and allowing Lupin to catch her when she fell, Remus felt certain that, due to his scars and the way that he looked, how the scars caused him to have somewhat of a grotesque appearance, at least, due to the nature of his lycanthropy, he had up until then held the firm belief that no one, no witch in their right mind, in the world would have wanted to be with someone who looked the way that he did, and what he was.

Remus was well aware of this fact and had been since he was old enough to truly understand. Despite gaining many friends over the years of his life, some facts about Great Britain in particular, at least in the wizarding community, were undeniable.

There were still some witches and wizards who saw him, took one look at the scars that marred what would otherwise be a perfectly normal face, and labeled him.

As a beast, a monster, rather than a man. He had not expected to strike gold twice in a lifetime.

It had been enough to have James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter in his life, and then his Order duties to keep him busy, and then his days as Hogwarts Professor, right?

Or so he _thought_. He'd almost always felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness whenever he saw other couples. Not because he was particularly jealous of them, but more because he wished there was a possibility a witch would one day grow to love him the way those couples did. It was a simple wish, a fool's dream.

One he'd not thought himself worthy of. Until he met Tonks, and then his entire life had changed.

Lupin blearily lifted his head and looked at Renee Barreau briefly, his light brown eyes shimmering with unshed moisture within that was akin to grief, who cringed as the flickering light from the fire bathed half of his face in a soft orange glow, while keeping the other half shrouded in shadow, and he knew she saw the Wolf flit across his face.

Remus felt a lump in his throat form as visions of his wife drenched his serene memory, and his breaths stuttered as he struggled to formulate an appropriate answer. He stared into the crackling fire in the hearth with hopeless eyes, as though he could not hear the murmurings of the other voices of the Order members behind him.

Lupin allowed his thoughts to wander to Tonks as he shot a silent prayer to Merlin above and James and Lily Potter in the afterlife to keep an eye on his wife, bringing his trembling hands down to rest awkwardly at his sides, though his fists shook.

Remus was going to do whatever it took to visit his wife tomorrow. He had to see her. He could not— _would_ not—let her alone to rot in a disgusting cell in Azkaban.

Lupin closed his strained eyes, feeling the memories of the last few hours swirl in his tired mind, and he did not even look up or open his eyes as he heard Albus speak. For once, Remus found himself to be grateful for Professor Dumbledore's interference.

"I believe that is quite enough for the moment, Miss Barreau. If you would, please kindly have a seat, I would like to get to the bottom of the nature of your…visit." Albus let out a tired sigh and turned towards the fireplace.

Remus did not see Albus wave his wand so that a third and fourth chair appeared by the roaring fire in the fireplace. He felt utterly confused and utterly lost, and tired.

So _tired_. Before he knew what was happening, Lupin bolted from his chair so fast in his haste to fulfill his sudden urge to be alone that he almost overturned the furniture.

"Please, don't get up. Do not leave on our account, Remus," Dumbledore began courteously. "I think you will want to hear what Miss Barreau has to say, Remus…."

_No_ , he thought bitterly to himself. _I really think that I won't_. He had heard _enough_.

Remus stood on his fatigued feet, finally opening his eyes, not even realizing anymore why he had gotten up from his chair in the first place, what had happened?

Lupin blinked once, twice, and shook his head to clear his mind, before offering the Hogwarts Headmaster and the young blonde Muggle woman a curt nod. Sighing, he collapsed back into his chair, the worn and forlorn expression on his face painted amber by the soft orange ember glow from the flames in the hearth.

" _Please_ , Renee." Remus paused, thinking he was not a man who was at all used to begging, and it was also strange for him to use this young woman's first name so quickly into their new acquaintance, especially given how volatile he had behaved towards Renee earlier. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure and laced his hands together, opened his eyes, fixing Renee Barreau with a pointed stare of his own that rivaled that of Albus's, feeling himself lean forward in his chair as he spoke to Renee.

"Tell me what happened to my wife."


	13. Chapter 13

Sirius's initial shock and anger, any sympathy he might have held for the young woman vanished instantly as the young blonde Muggle girl shot him and Moony a dirty look, and Sirius did not even have to ask this woman to know she was judging Remus by the truly grotesque looking scars on his face. But they weren't his fault.

Despite the insurmountable fear the girl had shown a few seconds ago at Remus's unpredictable outburst, a natural reaction, Sirius knew, upon learning his wife and mother of his new baby son, who he loved perhaps more than he loved himself, Sirius could not help but feel the intense need to defend his original reaction to the girl and Professor Dumbledore rise within the pit of his churning stomach and his chest.

"I will ask you _again_ , girl, and do not make me ask this of you a second time. I really _hate_ saying things a _second_ time," Sirius barked in an animalistic growl. "Because I can promise you this, girl. You will not enjoy it. Just who the bloody hell _are_ you? You _fell_ through my _ceiling_ , and I want some _answers_ , Merlin help you, because you won't be getting any of it from me, girl. Did Tonks really send you? How do I know this isn't just a _ploy_ , that you haven't been cursed by the Imperius Curse by one of Voldemort's Death Eaters?" Sirius growled angrily at the girl, his voice dangerously quiet as he dared to take a half step forward, brushing off Remus's hand off his shoulder as Lupin shot Sirius a look of immense disapproval at his cold tone.

The young blonde did not answer him, considering he was spouting words and names that she did not understand at all. Instead, she merely proceeded to grit her teeth in a sense of nervous anticipation and glowered at him.

Renee jerked her head away from addressing Tonks's husband, mulling over the scarred man's name, and ignoring the other. _Remus Lupin_ , she thought, furrowing her brows in a frown. _What a strange name_.

Though, then again, about the only ones who had names in this damned room that even resembled something close to normal were the girl and man from upstairs, Hermione and Arthur, and the ginger-haired man's wife, Molly Weasley. Renee jerked her head away from the dark-haired stranger, this friend of this Remus Lupin's as the old ancient man with the stupidly long beard spoke up again.

"That is _quite_ enough of _that_ , Sirius Black," Dumbledore said.

The young blonde blinked, swiveling her head upright to regard the aging wizard that now stood in front of her, the only barrier between herself and the man who'd held the wand to her throat earlier with intent to _hurt_ her.

She blinked as the old wizard took another step forward into the light, allowing Renee to truly get a good look at him, now that the lights were back on.

Everything about this wizard was gray, almost abysmally so. Ranging from his pristine gray robes patterned with tiny white stars and planets, to his long gray beard and long hair that was equally as gray. He looked as though he'd just stepped off a movie set or a Renaissance Faire or something. The man wore a comfortable looking scarf that was just as gray as the rest of his clothing, draped around his neck loosely in a relaxed manner, and her gaze drifted downward to his wand.

A knobby, twisted thing, Renee noticed, furrowing her brows in a frown. Were all wizards' and witches' wands like this man's? She glanced around the rest of the living room, trying to remain inconspicuous as she tried her hardest to crane her neck to get a look at everyone else's wands in their hands. Each design appeared to be different from what she could see. Curious.

_Maybe they're customizable_ , she wondered, her frown deepening, though she was immediately pulled out of her wandering thoughts as the aging ancient wizard, this Headmaster, if that's what he _really_ was, spoke up quietly.

Dumbledore's voice was quiet, reserved, and he spoke in a manner that suggested he was wise well beyond his years, though in Renee's mind, he was already past that point of no return. At his age, he had to be pushing ninety, at least, maybe older than that, the man ought to have one foot in the grave now.

When he did address the room, Renee was instantly reminded of her and Billy's grandfather growing up, whenever he had grown weary and worn of his grandchildren's antics when they would come to visit in the countryside.

"If you would be _so_ kind as to quiet yourself, Sirius, and you too, Remus," murmured the old man, peering at the two men seated in identical armchairs near the fireplace, over the rims of his silver half-moon spectacles in a manner that sent chills down the dark-haired man's spine, though Lupin remained unfazed and unstirred before he clasped his hands in front and turned to Renee.

_He has a name now, at least_ , Renee thought bitterly, narrowing her cobalt-blue eyes in suspicion at the man whom she heard addressed as Sirius just now, her inquisitive gaze flitting towards Remus Lupin.

She had never seen a man so… _defeated_. Utterly hopeless, lost, confused, but she didn't blame him.

"Now," Professor Dumbledore began courteously, waving his wand and conjuring two more chairs, one for him and one for Renee, he turned towards Renee and offered to her a small dip of his head before continuing speaking. "On behalf of my colleagues and the owner of this very house," Here, he paused to give the man called Sirius a truly admonishing, withering look that would have had the ability to wilt a fully-bloomed flower, "who has forgotten, no, perhaps chosen to forsake his manners, may I ask your name?"

Renee felt what little color was left in her face drain, and she merely proceeded to blink owlishly up at the aging wizard, who was much taller than he was, as, with some great difficulties, he lowered himself in the armchair opposite her. Once again, for the third or fourth time in a single night, the young woman found herself utterly speechless and at a complete loss of words.

Her throat hollowed and constricted, feeling like it was cutting off air to her passageways, and she gulped thickly and tried again to make her words come, though it felt as though there was a gag on her mouth when she tried.

"Ah," she began nervously, her skittish gaze seeming to remain fixated on Remus Lupin, whose light brown eyes glistening with unshed moisture never once averted from hers. She flinched at the true grotesque nature of the man's scars, and, if she was being honest with herself here, his _face_ as a whole.

The man certainly wasn't much to look at in terms of physical attributes, Renee thought, her eyebrows furrowed in a slight frown, hoping the furtive, immensely heavy guilt that felt like a crushing weight, a chunk of stone in her heart as she was unable to stop her rude staring of the poor man's face and those grotesque, revolting looking scars, was not evident in her blue eyes.

She felt incredibly guilty even thinking such a thought, given the man had apologized to her for bloody almost killing her when his…when his _magic_ got out of control. Renee swallowed nervously and glanced down at her lap.

Magic. Witches and wizards. Not a trick, not some movie set. Just this thought plastered a quiet vibration underneath Renee's skin and made it crawl. It was still incredibly difficult for her fractured and frazzled mind to process all of this. Great Britain was overrun by _witches_ and _wizards_.

Renee turned a snort through her nose into a poorly disguised cough, having to cover her mouth to conceal it, before looking back towards the Tonks woman's husband, hoping that he hadn't seen her look of disgust just now.

The pained look the man was currently shooting her suggested he _had_.

_Damn it, ah, fuck,_ she swore, though dared not say anything out loud that would already make her situation worse for herself. _Just great, Barreau. Now you've done it. As if he doesn't already have cause to hate you enough, now he does_.

Renee cursed herself, feeling her jaw muscles tense up and lock into place, and she forced herself to tear her gaze away reluctantly from the man's brown eyes. Remus Lupin's eyes and his thick head of light brown hair were perhaps the man's best quality, and maybe his only physical redeeming feature.

Yet again something that she did not particularly _enjoy_ thinking, though there had to be a reason besides his looks this Tonks woman married him and had a baby with him. _Looks aren't everything, Barreau_ , she scolded herself.

She reflected back on Albus Dumbledore's words not even a moment ago. How he had said this woman's husband was quite kind, reserved and quiet, timid, almost even, and then, as Lupin blearily lifted his head from keeping them buried in his hands and met her gaze, she got a good, clear look at his eyes.

They were truly bewitching, in every sense of the word. It was as if the man's roasted-coffee-bean rim had diffused into a cream-hued iris—mixing until it was the color of sun-dried beech wood. These were Remus Lupin's eyes.

By some miracle of God, Renee managed to find her voice again.

"R—Renee Barreau, sir," she managed in a hoarse little whisper, painfully wringing her hands together, not wanting to meet the wizard's icy-blue, piercing stare.

She could not quite explain it, but the longer she allowed her gaze to remain locked with the ancient wizard's, this eccentric Dumbledore character, it felt as though those eyes of his were baring straight through to her soul, to her heart, seeing her baser, deepest desires. And she did not like it at all.

After a moment, when neither Remus Lupin nor Dumbledore made a motion to speak, she tried again, wanting answers of her own as to tonight. She was quite certain that normal people on the streets didn't just…happen across a young woman witnessing getting arrested in Echo Alley.

No. Renee's brows knitted together, lost in contemplative thought as she tapped at her chin.

There was something else at work here. Something _evil_. Though another question burned at the tip of her tongue, and it tumbled unchecked from Renee's lips before she could think of stopping it.

"Just where the bloody hell _am_ I?" she murmured darkly, glancing around the dimly lit living room parlor, scrunching her nose in disgust. The copious amounts of dust that lingered in this dank, mildewy-room were intense.

Her nose tickled, fighting back a sneeze that she refused to let happen.

Professor Dumbledore, instead of being curt and annoyed with the young blonde's agitated, cold response, which was what she was fully expecting to happen, merely allowed a dark little chuckle to escape his lips that caused the whiskers of his beard near his mouth to twitch of their own accord in response.

"You, my dear, are in the Headquarters for a secret society known as the Order of the Phoenix. I am afraid I cannot permit myself to tell you exactly where in the event our enemy should attempt to use unsavory means to extract this information from you if you should stumble across any of them at any given point in time and should find yourself captured or tortured for information, but rest assured that while you remain within these walls, you are quite safe, Miss Barreau," he murmured, shooting her an apologetic glance, his cobalt blue eyes flitting towards Remus, who offered up no verbal response. "Please," he offered kindly. "Feel free to begin whenever you are ready, neither of us are attempting to pressure you in any way, dear."

It greatly bothered her how this old man, wizard or not, could be so bloody _calm_ about all of this.

Renee hesitated, playing with the edges of her pinkish tipped fingers to keep them warm, making a show of scooting her chair closer to the fire. She launched into an explanation, choosing to focus her attention solely on Albus, never once looking at Remus, who was busy staring into the depths of the fire, hearing his words but not processing them, not looking at the girl.

His brows furrowed into a frown as he sat, stooped over in his chair, his face buried in his hands, teeth ground in dismay as he thought of Tonks alone.

But Merlin's Beard, what she must be going through! He—he didn't want to think of it. Squeezing his eyes shut as he listened to the young Muggle woman's voice becoming fainter, sounding muffled, as though she were speaking to Professor Dumbledore underwater, somehow, he forced himself to remain calm. He wanted to think of _her_. His sweet loving wife, mother to his son.

A vision of Tonks's face fluttered from the dark recesses of his mind, and Remus was unable to prevent the memory from happening, wanting to focus on anything but at the horror within the young blonde Muggle's blue eyes. Though he supposed that it wasn't all that similar to how she had first looked at him during the early days of their partnership in the Order back then.

Lupin was unable to stop the pitiful mewling whimper, feeling as though someone had plunged a rusty knife deep into his chest and his heart. His stomach twisted and churned as a coil in his gut, rendering him unstirred in his chair, feeling like he was going to be physically sick to his stomach. He _had_ to get Dora out of Azkaban, no matter what he had to do.

Remus allowed the thought hang as he leaned forward in his chair, burying his head in his hands, effectively drowning out the young blonde's words. He tried to listen to Miss Barreau's words, but he found he couldn't.

Not when every time he closed his eyes, he saw Tonks's fearful eyes in his mind, that first time she had truly laid eyes on his monstrous form, his scars…

* * *

_Tonks had accidentally walked in on Remus early on in their rocky start. Furrowing her brows, she heard what sounded like a muffled whining noise coming from a closed spare bedroom door in Grimmauld Place._

_Intrigued, her ears practically perking up at the noise, she crept towards the door behind which the sound had originated. Whatever it was, was an animal. Her frown deepening, she froze in her tracks as she heard an excruciatingly loud sound that forced her to halt her movements and be still._

_Something which could only be described as that of a wounded animal roared at the top of its lungs as it echoed through the hallway of Headquarters. As Tonks stood frozen on the spot, the wooden floor beneath her boots seemed to vibrate in response to something being smashed across onto the floor._

_Tonks slowly swiveled her head to look in the general direction down the dark corridor, where she knew the noise to come from Mr. Lupin's room. The door remained firmly shut. It was only a moment later that the young witch and Auror realized the sound had not been that of a creature, but of Remus._

_"My new partner," Tonks answered bitterly through gritted teeth._

_She did not want a new partner, and had made it quite plain to Professor Dumbledore that she was more than content and capable of handling herself on her own, but the man possessed a stubborn streak not unlike that of old Broody Moody, and refused to kowtow to Tonks's demands that she be left alone._

_The anguished roar came again, and Tonks bit the inside wall of her cheek in hesitation, an arm outstretched towards the closed bedroom door._

_Tonks barely stifled her groan of frustration and fear. "Ugh, Merlin's Beard. He—he does not NEED my help. Remus can bloody take care of himself. I—I must be out of my mind," Tonks moaned, walking gingerly towards the closed door, though she swore that she could hear voices coming from inside._

_Tonks froze. Something was behind her partner's door, and it was anything but good, and if it was Remus who had made that horrible howling noise just now, she was surely about to provoke his anger, though it was Molly's insistence that she come and check on her new partner at two o'clock in the bloody morning, after hearing the man had been taken ill for a few days._

_She did not know who she was angrier with at this moment. Molly, for coercing her into this, or herself for bloody agreeing to go along with it._

_Tonks bristled, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing up, recollecting the moment downstairs after dinner during the cleanup and conclusion of an Order meeting when she had witnessed Lupin shoot her a rather odd look._

_She had been about to comment on it, though wasn't given the chance as he announced to his partner under his breath when Tonks had retreated to Grimmauld Place's kitchen for peace and quiet, that he was not feeling well, and he would be begging off night duty, and Tonks would be left alone for the sixth time in the last two months, a fact which made her blood boil in her veins._

_If this continued to be a repeating pattern, she would request reassignment. She could not have her partner constantly off of night duty. Tonks, needing a moment to herself, glanced down at the book in her hands with unease._

_The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a true classic in terms of literature, but she could not even pretend to feign an interest in reading it._

_Not tonight. Though she briefly wondered if her partner would want to read it if he was to stay cooped up in bed for a couple of days while he recovered._

_Shutting the book, Tonks pursed her lips into a thin line. Right now, all she could focus on was Molly cornering her just now a second ago, asking if she spoke with Remus Lupin often, considering he was her partner._

_"Do you speak with Remus often, dear?" Molly had asked, concerned._

_"E—excuse me?" Tonks exclaimed, lifting her head, and almost dropping the empty dinner plates as she helped Mrs. Weasley clear the table. She raised her eyebrows and looked upward at Molly in utter alarm._

_Satisfied, as though she were enjoying some private joke with herself, Mrs. Weasley merely proceeded to smile at her as she set the dishes aside and toyed tenderly with her wand in both hands, while she waited for Tonks._

_She had successfully caught the young witch off guard. "I was hoping that you would take these up to him. The poor dear isn't feeling well, I'm afraid, and these appear to be the only thing that helps settle his poor stomach whenever he gets like this," Mrs. Weasley murmured, turning her back on Tonks for a moment, and when she turned around, she held in her hands a heavily laden meal tray, a goblet of a foul-smelling potion that made Tonks's stomach lurch, bile creeping up to her throat, and a bar of chocolate._

_A truly potent combination, one that would surely not combine well. Tonks furrowed her brows in a frown and glowered up at Molly, confused._

_"Well, ah, not often, Molly, but when we do interact, it's…strained," Tonks confessed, knowing this to be true. In just the two months that the pair had been partnered, Remus Lupin had shown no interest in getting to know her._

_But Molly was persistent and continued. "Tell me, dear, do you think you would react well if you were to take this to him? I'm afraid it isn't much, but it's the only thing that helps that man."_

_"If I…." repeated Tonks, her quiet voice fading as she processed Molly's seemingly urgent and pleading request, Mrs. Weasley's light brown eyes brimming with almost a nervous anticipation, hoping she would say yes to it._

_After a moment's silence, her almond-shaped gray eyes widened in horror and she clamped a hand over her mouth in shock. "Oh, Molly, no, no, I—I couldn't. I cannot go up to that man's bedroom uninvited. His temper—"_

_Molly allowed a dark little chuckle to escape her lips. "Well, my dear, I just thought that since the man is your new partner in the Order, and I had hoped that you would have known him a little better by now at this stage, that you would be willing to take this upstairs for me," Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "It will look better this way, at least, if these things come from you, Tonks."_

_"But Molly," protested Tonks, biting her bottom lip, and painfully twisting her hands together as she stepped forward towards Mrs. Weasley, leaning in and lowering her voice. "Remus Lupin does not like me, Molly. I am not allowed near him, so why don't I ask Sirius or Dumbledore to—"_

_Mrs. Weasley was already shaking her head no, causing Tonks's heart to sink to the pit of her stomach._

_"In my experience, dear, Remus Lupin is a gentle man, with a kind heart, and an even sweeter soul. You would do well to remember that, Miss Tonks, if you would only give your new partner a chance. Sending anybody else to take this to him will simply annoy him. No, my dear," Mrs. Weasley sighed, sounding exasperated. "I think that it has to come from you."_

_Tonks barely managed to stifle her groan, nodding in resigned defeat. Letting out a heavy sigh and grumbling darkly to herself under her breath, she gathered the tray in her arms and made her way out into the living room parlor of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, where Remus Lupin sat in a chair by himself._

_She frowned, furrowing her brows. He preferred to be alone, so her partner said, though the tinge of melancholia in his light brown eyes suggested otherwise, and yet…he continued to push her away, to keep her at arm's length, though why she did not know._

_"Molly gave me this to give to you," Tonks grumbled, setting down the tray on a small wooden night table next to his chair and turning away._

_"Thank you." Tonks winced at hearing how weak he sounded, and this gave her pause._

_Maybe, perhaps for the first time, he really, truly was taken ill._

_She had nodded mutely towards Lupin, turning her back on him and ducking her head, allowing a lock of her way plum hair this evening to tumble in front of her face, effectively shielding her face from view. "You should go, Remus," Tonks murmured softly. "Leave. If you are feeling unwell, then rest."_

_Tonks had spoken to him as if she were commanding a first-year-student, and she had lifted her chin and looked at him, unable to resist. But still, the man made no move to leave, and Tonks began to grow perturbed. She did not know exactly what her partner wanted of her now._

_If he was pursuing her in some way, shape, or form, then just say it. She wanted him to come outright and confess what it was of her that he wanted. If Remus wanted her to leave him alone, then so be it, but what did the man want?  
_

_The young Auror blanched at seeing the grotesqueness of his scars in the dim light._

_It seemed to take Remus Lupin an eternity to find his voice. "I wanted to see you, Dora," he murmured, his quiet, reserved voice almost barely audible. "I will have to leave. I wanted to ensure you will be looked after."_

_Tonks could not explain the bristling feeling that spread as warmth throughout her chest, but she merely proceeded to nod and grit her teeth._

_"I am more than capable of fending for myself, Remus," Tonks murmured. "You are not fit for duty tonight You should consider quitting if you can't handle it," she growled, not sure where her words were coming from. "If you continuously get sick like this, then you must not be cut out for this work, Lupin. Then go. Leave."_

_Her voice came out harsher than she meant to, and she let out a sigh as she watched as Remus Lupin flinched away in hurt surprise. Tonks groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, instantly regretting her words. Merlin save me._

_This man did not deserve her as a partner in his life._

_"I—I'm sorry. I don't know what bloody hell came over me just now, Lupin. I—I did not mean to snap, I just…two bloody hours of sleep is not enough for me, Remus. Forgive me, Lupin?"_

_She left her plea hanging in the air between them, reaching up a hand to stifle the wide yawn with the back of her hand and ultimately failing. She knew Remus had seen it, and she waited with bated breath._

_Tonks breathed out a sigh of relief as Lupin merely dipped his head in acknowledgment of her sort-of apology._

_"I forgive you," he murmured huskily._

_The young witch watched as the older man turned towards the tray perched precariously on the small nightstand next to his chair, pulling a face._

_"Disgusting," he grumbled, stirring the foul-smelling potion with the fork. He scrunched his nose and pulled a face as he tilted the goblet to his lips._

_Tonks pursed her lips into a thin line. She swore to herself something about the drink's contents smelled familiar as Tonks's nostrils flared, but she did not want to make assumptions of her partner, though it reeked like Wolfsbane. She quirked her brows at Remus, her eyebrows shooting so far up onto her forehead they almost disappeared into her hairline as he reached for his spoon._

_"What are you doing?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her._

_Sanguinely, Remus lifted his head, and Tonks could see just how peaky he was looking. Deep purple and black bags clung underneath both of his eyes._

_His clothing hung off him in parts and clung to his slender frame in others, and Tonks heard him give off a sigh as he poured one, two, and three lumps of sugar into the drink. "I've been feeling…off-color, and this drink, sadly, is the only thing that seems to help. Mrs. Weasley has graciously agreed to make it for me when she can, and I am grateful Severus is up to the challenge."_

_Tonks frowned, feeling her suspicions rise within her chest as bile that settled and lingered on her tongue. Remus either remained oblivious to his partner's steadily growing discomfort or chose to completely ignore it wholly._

_"It's a pity sugar makes it utterly useless," Lupin sighed, sounding disappointed, tilting his head and the goblet back and draining it in one go. He rose, albeit somewhat with difficulty and stiffly, from his chair. "I…have to go," he murmured, not looking at her. "If you will excuse me, Tonks," Remus spoke softly, never once daring to meet her gaze. "I…am not feeling well and I think I should rest."_

_But Tonks, in spite of the twinge of caution she harbored towards her partner, shot out an arm to catch his arm before he could Disapparate and leave._

_"I could make it for you. This potion," Tonks offered in spite of herself, as her mind mulled over Mrs. Weasley's words, knowing she was right. "This may come as a bit of a shock to you, Mr. Lupin," Tonks began, allowing the faint ghost of a smile to flit across her features as she shot him a kind smile, "given how Professor Snape and I despise each other so much during meetings, but I excelled in Potions during my time at school. I had to excel in order to become an Auror. Snape only excepted 'Outstanding's' in his OWL's and NEWT'S. I would be happy to make this for you if it is the only thing that helps you, as you say. Let me help you, Lupin," she urged, already sensing by the dark look in his eyes he'd say no._

_Her suspicions were confirmed when Remus shook his head._

_"No. I—I am flattered, Miss Tonks, but this particular potion is incredibly complex, and not many are up to the challenge. Mrs. Weasley and Severus are more than capable. To ask that of you and impose this burden of you in addition to the added responsibilities of your job at the Ministry would be an imposition, Tonks, and I will not force that upon you, Tonks. I won't."_

_"But you need help. Why does it matter who makes it for you or not? I'm your partner, aren't I? Let me help you, Remus," Tonks protested, not sure at all where his sudden shift in countenance was coming from, though this was, at least a good start. In the two months of their partnership, this was the longest conversation the two of them had exchanged. It was better than nothing._

_She knew Molly was right. If their new partnership, this…relationship of theirs, was going to succeed, they would have to learn to open up, to trust._

_Again, Lupin shook his head, though he dipped his head, a subtle sign of respect towards his partner._

_"That will not be necessary, Dora, but thanks." Looking almost hesitant, Remus looked down his nose at Tonks, a mixture of fear, wonderment, and fascination in those bewitching eyes of his._

_Perhaps the man's only redeeming feature, as the scars on his face were truly revolting. Tonks hated to think this, but the plain fact of the matter was that her partner, Remus Lupin, was not exactly a handsome man. Nevertheless, there was a look in the older wizard's eyes that Tonks was not entirely sure what to make of, as if for a brief second, Remus had been transported somewhere else and had forgotten who he was. Who Tonks was. The light brown in his eyes did not seem so distant and cold now._

_As he eyed her, her heart began to race. In the several months that she knew Remus Lupin, he had never held her gaze for quite this long before, ever. There was a look in the man's eyes she had never seen in him before, a warm intensity that made her feel excited and terrified at the same time._

_A sound coming from the entryway of the living room parlor interrupted the silent exchange and the words unspoken, and the stirring moment between the pair of Order partners came to an end, as Sirius sighed._

_Tonks glanced towards her immediate right, shifting at the waist, to see her cousin resting against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. The dark-haired former prisoner of Azkaban was looking quite smug about something, though what that thing was, Tonks could not say for certain._

_Remus's previously meditative and thoughtful expression turned into that of a scowl almost instantly, the corners of his mouth turned downward. The scars on Remus Lupin's face ended just at the corner of his mouth, which tugged his lips downward slightly in a permanent looking grimace, giving off the appearance the man was always frowning, scowling, the way his mouth was constantly pulled down slightly by his scars, but not so._

_He murmured a half-hearted goodbye under his breath and quit the scene before either Tonks or Sirius could offer up a follow-up retort to Remus._

_Turning rapidly towards her cousin, where Sirius still leaned against the doorway, unstirred, though his head slowly swiveled down the hallway as he heard his best mate climb the stairwell towards where Tonks knew his bedroom was._

_It was her understanding the man's cottage was little more than a shack. And Sirius, the kind-hearted bloke that he was, now that Tonks had taken the last two months to get to truly know her cousin, had offered him shelter, letting Remus stay in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs so that he would not have to live alone in that desolate, tumbledown cottage of his._

_"Well. That was special," Sirius chuckled, the first to break the silence._

_Tonks merely proceeded to look at her cousin as the man crossed the threshold and into the living room, taking the seat across from Tonks, Tonks having collapsed into the very leather armchair that Remus had just vacated._

_"Molly was right," he continued, noticing Tonks's confusion. "She knew it would work. That could have only come from you, dear cousin."_

_Frowning slightly, Tonks shook her head, brushing away Sirius's comment as though it had confused, which, if she was being honest, it did. "E...excuse me?" she murmured, feeling rather dazed and confused.  
_

_"I've seen my best mate blow off a dozen women in the last few months, but this was…a first," he admitted, sounding thoroughly surprised by his own words. "You must be becoming close to Remus, Tonks, otherwise…that would not have happened," Sirius murmured contemplatively, draping his leg over the arm of the chair in a relaxed, casual manner, stroking the whiskers of his beard as he stared after the doorway, at the spot where Remus had been._

_Sirius chuckled as Tonks said nothing in response to his comment, though he noticed his cousin's gaze becoming quite guarded by means of reaction as Sirius continued to smile at her knowingly as if he knew something she bloody didn't, and this countenance in her cousin bothered her greatly._

_Before Tonks could respond to his quip, Sirius politely excused himself from his chair and exited the living room parlor, leaving Tonks alone in the very chair her partner had been sitting in by the fireplace, leaving her stunned._

_She made no move to get up from her chair, though Tonks did not repress the violent shiver that crawled its up way her back, trying not to think about the way Remus Lupin had looked at her just now through the darkness of this dimly lit room, his light brown eyes glinting ever so slightly._

_Almost…almost…_

_Wolfish._

* * *

_Do you remember the roof, Rem?_

_Lupin blinked, slowly gazing at the whisperer. This night, like any other night post-transformation, Lily's spirit in his hallucinations kept him company. Sometimes he saw James and his mother, too, but more times often than not, it was Lily._

_She was looking at him, perched on the edge of his bed with her sun-kissed fiery red hair loose, unbound, and wavy. Lily smiled at Remus, but his lips remained a straight line._

_He was panting heavily, hastily pulling on a pair of loose-fitting black pajama pants. They were Sirius's and a little too big for him. Remus heard the Wolf within growl in frustration as he attempted to cinch the drawstring tight._

_Remus let out a tired sigh as he searched in vain for a spare t-shirt and finding none. He had more or less ruined the last one to shreds when he had transformed, and the Wolf within him had come out. He groaned in frustration._

_Lupin blinked slowly as he looked towards the apparition of his dead friend, attempting to reach her friend following his transformation, to allow pieces of his sanity to slowly return to him, feeling sure his mind was tricking him, playing a sport of his vision, his wretched wolfish sight, still tinged grey at the edges. He was trapped in his own delusions. Lily Potter was not really here._

_His face remained in apathy as he said not a word, as Lily launched into the re-telling of the story of Remus's first time on night watch for the Order. How Lupin had gotten so spooked by his own owl, so badly that he had screamed and had woken up Lily, James, and Moody, and all for nothing._

_Remus squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shook his head to clear it, still feeling dazed and weak, feeling the last sap of strength leaving him, and he slumped to his knees, leaning against the side of his bed from his spot on the floor._

_There would be no rest for him tonight, given how horrible he felt. Why Lupin continued to allow his friends, particularly Lily, haunt him and ghost him like this, he did not know. He knew there were things left unsaid between the two of them, things he had never said to Lily or James. To him, Lily and James remained everywhere, inquiring after him, haunting him, and during his Transformations, he felt the ice on his cheeks in the forms of their fingers, whispering in a touch of frost, that ghostly feeling._

_Did you…? They would ask him, and this time, unlike other nights following his painful transformations in terms of not being able to answer, tonight was different._

_"You know that I did, Lily," Remus choked out softly._

_You will look after Harry? She asked, concern wrought in her eyes._

_"Yes." Lupin pursed his lips to swallow down past the lump in his throat, whispering in his assumed madness, hoping he did not wake anyone._

_The last thing he wanted, particularly his new partner, was for them to see. Lily's silence reigned, and Remus remained confident that Lily was nothing more than a figment of his tormented and anguished mind, but somehow, he continued to allow his damned mind to play with this consciousness, whispering. This time, Lupin swore he saw the apparition of Lily Potter cry._

_The light crystals forming on the rim of her green eyes, and her shimmering form, particularly her face, becoming disoriented by her attempts to stop the crying. Remus almost never saw Lily's spirit cry, and he laughed silently at the thought of Harry Potter's mother and Padfoot's wife shedding tears._

_Lily was a woman who, in life, had almost never cried, possessing an inner strength that was truly unparalleled, and unlike anything he had ever seen before. Lily's pale face cut from the finest pearls, even in a death like this, was as rigid as marble, her words sharper than any pointed edge of a quill when angry._

_Lily Potter was a woman who possessed the skill of a dozen highly intelligent witches, and the weakness of a princess from the tales of old, wanting nothing more than to be loved, and she had found that within James, once he had matured in his sixth year and ceased his tormenting of Severus Snape._

_Remus, from his spot on the floor, held himself back, willing his mind to stay this madness and stop the delirium, knowing this was only a nightmare. But a beautiful nightmare, nonetheless, and still, he spoke the words from his heart._

_"We were right to leave the rooftop that night, the three of us. We would have died, been caught by Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters had we stayed." A beat, a pause, and silence reigned still as Lily did not respond._

_He swallowed down hard and continued._

_"It was right for the three of us to leave that roof. But what wasn't right when you and James left me," he growled, feeling the faltering crack in his voice. Remus sharply turned his head away, blinking back briny, salty tears._

_And that was when the door to his bedroom opened. Lupin blanched._

_It was Tonks._

* * *

_What…the bloody hell…just happened? Tonks felt like her mind was reeling. After parting earlier tonight with Remus, she felt…strangely at peace._

_Despite recollecting how the man had looked at her, the desire to check on her partner won over her doubts, causing her to seek him out again. She opened the door, only to find the man in a state of mid-dress. Tonks could not stop the squeak of horrified surprise that escaped her lips._

_Seeing the hundreds of terrible pink and red jagged scars, these ones even worse than the ones that littered and mauled his face so horrifically, Tonks felt what little color was left in her face drain, her mouth hung open in shock._

_A quick scan of the man's bare torso and arms told her the scars covered the man's entire body, and though (thank Merlin) he was wearing a pair of black pajama pants, she could tell one of the scars extended down his pelvis._

_Had he been stark naked, Tonks felt sure the scars would have extended down to the man's legs. Tonks did not think she would ever forget, from this night forth, the images and sounds displayed in the middle of his now open, exposed room. Remus Lupin shirtless._

_On his knees._

_The whimpering that followed. Blood, thick, crimson, and garish, that trickled down his shirtless torso and backside, onto the hardwood floor, in small crimson puddles like that of water. Tonks froze in the doorway, the tip of her lighted wand casting a faint pearly, luminescent glow throughout the room that she quickly extinguished._

_She could not seem to process what the bloody hell she was seeing. Tonks remained still at the horrific display in front of her and inhaled sharply. Tonks couldn't understand what she was seeing. At first, Tonks wondered if her sleep-deprived state, given it was two in the morning, she was sleep-walking and was imagining this as one of her nighttime hallucinations._

_That this was not her partner. Not the Remus John Lupin she knew. The person kneeling on the floor of the bedroom just bloody had to be someone else. A—a Death Eater impersonating her new partner in the Order._

_But finally, the realization set in Tonks's bones and it chilled her. This was no nightmare. This was real life. Remus was hurting, suffering, and like it or not, despite their rocky start, she had to help this man._

_Tonks heard herself let out a mindless exhale and poor Lupin from his perch on the floor, bolted to his feet, seemingly not seeing her, going stiff. His posture stiffened, and Tonks knew the man had heard her. The young witch bit the wall of her cheek, knowing full well she was in possible danger of Remus Lupin lashing out at her and losing his temper with her._

_He seemed so unpredictable and unstable a few times a month, she could not make sense of it. Tonks struggled with the thought of speaking and announcing why she had come to check on him, or just turning and running._

_Tonks drew in a breath and held it, waiting, in a frantic state of mind, her stance ready to bolt in case things turned ugly. She hoped they didn't._

_Remus's wand arm had been raised, his pale knuckles were bone-white with the grip that he held, though his wand shook in his hands, and he did not let go. His breathing was shallow, he was panting heavily, and his gaze dazed._

_Tonks could hear the faint, barely audible sound of small, restrained cries trapped in her partner's throat, and her stomach gave a painful lurch._

_Neither one made any attempt to move, staying put in their tense and rigid postures for what felt like an eternity, neither one speaking nor moving._

_Finally, Remus slowly lowered his wand and met Tonks's horrified gaze with a glower that seemed uncharacteristically violent of her partner. But she saw tears trapped within the man's light brown orbs. Tonks, after a long silence, found her voice, though she barely managed to get the question out due to the halting of air that needed to come into her lungs._

_Because she kept forgetting how to bloody breathe. How could she?!_

_"R—Remus? Wh—what are you doing?" Tonks whispered hoarsely, her voice meek and subdued, though genuine shock was laced throughout it._

_Lupin did not answer Tonks. He merely stared across the room at her, with those damned damp, angry, unreadable brown eyes that were red-rimmed and cracked. The most dangerous stare in her experience so far in his company._

_Tonks swallowed down nervously past the growing lump in her throat, amazed she could even find her voice at all. "Tell me, please." She spoke with persistence in her words, though she knew her voice truly lacked conviction._

_When Lupin finally did speak to her, Remus turned his head away in shame, ducking his head. His response was short, his voice disconnected, angry._

_"You need to leave, Tonks." His voice was clipped and hardened._

_Anger rose within Tonks at her partner's persistent stubbornness against her wanting to help him in his injured state and replied just as fast as he did. "No." She left her response hanging in the air between them, and waited with a held breath, wondering if she was making a big damn mistake._

_Tonks squeezed her eyes tightly shut as suddenly, a loud but slow, threatening, and impatient exhale was heard vacating through Remus's nose. She did not even have to look to imagine his nostrils flaring like that of an angry bull looking for a shade of red to match the rimes of his tear-filled eyes. Tonks began to question coming here, wondering if she had indeed made a mistake in miscalculating her place in this alien situation, in this man's life._

_Remus, though he offered no verbal retort, clumsily staggered backward and Tonks instinctively backed up, her free hand not clutching her wand groping blindly for the doorknob, ready to bolt, her attention in overdrive._

_But something unfamiliar kept her planted in her spot, unstirred. She did not know what had happened to him, but Tonks knew she could not leave her partner alone like this, on the brink of death's doorstep._

_Tonks glanced quickly from his heavily scarred face to his clenched fist around the handle of his wand and how badly it was shaking, and then his eyes. They were filled with a raw shame and fury she had never seen before, and Tonks swore she heard Remus Lupin let out a muffled whimper from the back of his throat, almost a whine, like when a dog was kicked by its master._

_"Excuse me?" Remus spoke up, at last, his voice calm and low. She could tell he was trying to be polite towards her and failing miserably. "What did you just say?" he asked, as though he had misheard her when he had not._

_The menacing tone that left her partner's lips was not his voice. Much too flat and emotionless, not the normal kind tone she had come to respect._

_Tonks decided to stand her ground, feeling the heels of her boots dig into the hardwood floor, to physically give her the courage as well as mentally._

_"I said no." She repeated, her answer firm, her voice louder to punctuate her unwillingness to comply with Remus's demand that she leaves._

_She could not. Would not. Not when her partner was suffering. Tonks visibly winced, watching in nervous silence as Remus narrowed his eyes._

_The man clenched his jaw in anger and took a fumbling step towards her. Tonks flinched, stepping back a few paces at her partner's sudden lunge. Like a wolf lunging for its prey in the shadows._

_Tonks knew she did not want to show Remus how afraid of him at the moment that she was. She knew it would only feed his temper and hot embarrassment at having been discovered in such a precarious and questioning position, really._

_Tonks steeled herself as she took a cautious step forward, deciding the best case in this regard was to pocket her wand, show him she meant no harm. Carefully, with somewhat shaking fingers, she did just that and sighed._

_Her abrupt brazenness as she slowly raised her hands in a sign of cautious surrender, caused Remus to lose his ironclad grip on his wand, and it clattered to the floor near his bare and bleeding feet, louder than either of them would have liked, and both jumped at the noise as wood met wood as his wand fell._

_It had not escaped Tonks's attention, and instead of retaliating against her partner's strange behavior, Tonks closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, allowing her almost physically overwhelming need to help him take over._

_In the process, it washed away the dozens of other questions burning at the edge of her tongue just begging to be asked of her partner, though there would be time enough for that later. But right now, she needed to help Lupin._

_"Remus, please don't push me away. Let me help you," Tonks begged quietly, reaching out her hand towards her partner, who jerked away from her._

_He curled in on himself, and it did not take an intellectual genius like Dumbledore to be present in the room with them for Tonks to tell Lupin was distraught, in pain, and losing entirely too much blood to be healthy right now._

_"I—I don't need your help! I—I'm dangerous, Tonks, you need to stay away from me!" Remus ordered, his voice escaping his lips as a low barking._

_The anxiety quickly consumed his anger as she carefully approached. Tonks tried again._

_"You're hurt, Remus. I—I don't care how it happened or when, but at least allow me to help you, Lupin. Please. Let me."_

_She received a snarl from Remus as the edges of his lips curled upward, and Tonks was briefly reminded of a misbehaving dog that had been backed into a corner and saw no other way out of his predicament but to snarl at her._

_"Let me—" Tonks started to say, but he hollered, cutting her off._

_"I don't **NEED** your help! **LEAVE**!" His breathing became even more uneven as Remus started to sway on the spot where he stood, glowering at her._

_Tonks cringed at the man's outburst, but stayed motionless, wanting to see what Remus would do._

_At this point, she was about a few feet away from Remus and could see plainly for herself with her own two eyes just how bad off of a condition her poor partner was in. His light brown hair was in wild disarray from sweat, matted, and tangled with congealed blood that was drying. His already pale skin was practically bone-white and pallid, giving him the look of a corpse._

_His light brown eyes were bloodshot, red, and exhausted. Tonks knew just by looking at how emaciated Remus Lupin was, that he had not any sleep, and by how thin he was, he hadn't eaten much today. Or the last several days, come to think of it, leading up to now._

_Finally, Remus's legs buckled beneath him as the last of his strength was sapped, and he fell back down on his knees, much as he had been when she had first entered the room. Tonks took advantage of the sudden opportunity to catch Lupin as best as she possibly could, holding up upright in an awkward sort of a hug and for once, Remus did not fight against her at the close proximity._

_Tonks knew Lupin was too weak to do so. Tonks grunted through gritted teeth, lifting her partner to a standing, upright position, using the strength of her legs and her shoulders, and finally, she was able to throw one of his arms around her neck and gingerly guided him back towards the queen bed._

_Trying to be as gentle as possible, she set Remus on the edge of the mattress, and almost the second he touched it, his entire body went limp. Lupin barely managed to keep his head up, but the rest of him was debatable, as his body swayed so damned bloody much, Tonks was forced to place one of her hands on the man's scarred shoulders to try to steady him._

_Tonks leaned over, trying to look into the man's unfocused brown eyes. Remus's eyelids became heavy as they started to close._

_"Oh, damn…" She did not swear lightly, and Tonks snapped her fingers in his face._

_He blinked rapidly, startled by the sudden gesture from Tonks._

_"Lupin?! Hey! Come on! Don't go to sleep on me, Remus!" It was difficult for Remus to remain awake and cognizant of his dark surroundings. Tonks snapped her fingers in his face a second and third time, and she breathed a sigh of relief as Lupin opened his eyes and looked at her coherently enough to instruct him. "Remus, I—I need you to help me, okay? There isn't any other way I can take a look at your injuries unless you lie on your stomach, but I'm not strong enough to do this on my own. Can you lift your legs?"_

_Lupin offered Tonks a tiny nod, though when he tried, Remus lost his balance and practically bowled poor Tonks over as the man fell into her arms. She caught him, wrapped her arms around his neck to avoid accidentally grazing against the wounds of his back that looked like bite marks._

_With a horrified stare, she dared to peek over the man's shoulder and saw that crimson blood was starting to stain the bed sheets and the comforter. He was losing a lot of blood and Tonks was not bloody prepared for this. She was not a Healer of St. Mungo's, nor was she a Muggle doctor, those nutters that cut people up to try to fix their ailments, but she had to try to help._

_This wouldn't be the first time Tonks had dressed wounds before, and she was quite resourceful as an Auror, or at least, she liked to think she was._

_Remus drooped his head, letting it rest at the crook of her neck, totally unable to move and completely at Tonks's mercy and her whims. She sighed. After a moment or two in silence, she felt dampness soak her t-shirt._

_"What…?" she murmured lowly under her breath, moving her head just a tad as she pulled back slightly to study Lupin's tear-filled light brown eyes._

_Lupin, in times when he was not feeling well, always struck Tonks as calm and composed, and to see the man in such a state like this, well, it frightened her and intensified her feelings of uncertainty. She didn't know what to do._

_So, Tonks did the only thing that she could think of in this second._

_She comforted her partner._

_Tonks knew allowing her panic to take over would only make things worse for Remus, and she did not want that._

_Tonks proceeded to run her fingers through his thick, soft hair soothingly, ending her gentle stroking at the base of Lupin's neck, where the hairs on the back of his neck stood upright, short, and prickly against her skin._

_The young Auror repeated this process a few more times until she heard a helpless, half-choked sob finally escaped his cracked and bleeding lips. "It's all right…" Tonks murmured her words into Remus's hair, trying her best to reassure her partner that things were going to be okay, no matter what. She hugged Lupin to her body for a short time until he calmed down._

_The way Remus was behaving, seeming to take comfort in her arms, reminded Tonks of a scared lost kid, nothing like the man that she knew. Then, it hit her, and Tonks felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. The truth was right in front of her._

_The man's defensive shield was down, and Tonks understood why Remus had acted as he had towards her earlier, so cold and aloof. Why the disgusting scent of that smoking potion had smelled familiar._

_Wolfsbane, she thought, a chill prickling her skin. He's a werewolf. Remus, right now, as he was, post-transformation and hurt, was in an incredibly vulnerable state. Tonks knew a little thing or two about that herself._

_When pride would get the better of her, and she didn't want to let anyone in. Not her parents, not Ollie, not Moody, not anyone. Just her. It was a state Tonks knew Remus did not want anyone else to see. But it no longer mattered to her._

_This man, like it or not, was her partner in the Order. Remus Lupin was hurt, suffering, and she just wanted to heal his wounds._

_Maybe, just maybe, then, through this act of selflessness, Remus would open up to her and decide to confide in her and start trusting her as his partner._

_Tonks could only hope that, in time, if she were to do this for him, to stay by his side while he healed, that Remus Lupin would learn to trust her. Judging by what she had walked in on, things between them needed to change._

_And soon._


	14. Chapter 14

Tonks struggled to open her eyes, feeling like there was a constricting on her throat, a weight that was sucking her very last breath. She barely heard herself let out a low whine.

Was it a Dementor? Was it attempting to feed on her memories? Was _that_ it? Her once tranquil face in sleep now welcomed what she knew to be a slight struggle.

She could feel it tightening, though Tonks did not want to open her eyes just yet.

It was still dark out; Tonks could tell it without even having to open her eyes and look out the single barred window out at the sea. No soft rays of sunlight streamed in through it.

But she could not ignore the feeling for much longer, as when her lungs pleaded with her to cough, Tonks was forced to pry her eyes open and stared at the unspeakable, towering horror in the shape of a dark shadow, a man's silhouette by the looks of it, that loomed over her as he—or _it_ —had previously been watching her sleep.

Tonks's jaw hung open.

In her intense silence, Tonks somehow screamed with her entire body. Her gray eyes wide with horror, her mouth rigid and open, her chalky face gaunt and pulled tight.

Her fists, which had been resting on her stomach, clenched tightly shut with blanched, white-boned knuckles, and her nails dug deeply into the palms of her skin, hard enough to pierce the soft, tender flesh and cause it to bleed, but Tonks ignored it.

She had much _bigger_ problems to worry about right now, such as the brand new one that was this nameless stranger about to almost _strangle_ her to death in this prison!

The sight that she witnessed above as she had stared up at the ceiling caused her pupils to dilate unnaturally wide, even in the dark like this.

A man's hand hovered over the delicate flesh of her neck, his strong, calloused fingers wound tightly around the column of her throat like poison ivy on a pillar, and Tonks did not know what to do.

Given it had to be at _least_ three o'clock or four in the morning, and the inmates upon their admittance into Azkaban were relieved of their wands, no candles or lights of any kind were lighted, save for the torches just outside the cell corridor, their soft orange ember flames flickering, an endless dance of light and shadow just on the other side of the door to her and Cate's cell, and—oh, _Cate_!

Was Cate still asleep? Had he _killed_ her?

The stranger's eyes burned like midnight shadows, pinpricks of a vibrant green against the abysmal black of her cell.

Tonks could clearly see the anger and loathing that spiraled in them, but there was something in the man's eyes that she shivered at seeing.

Something that Tonks could only describe as an abhorrence, and _worse_ , frustration.

_For…for me_?

She wondered and gulped nervously, though black spots danced in front of what little vision she still possessed as the man's hand around her throat tightened even more.

The man's right hand pushed the brunt of his weight down on the pillow beneath her head and beside her left ear, and his left hand just above Tonks's throat.

The stranger's knees were practically apart with her thighs between them, the scratchy green woolen blanket she had been given the only barrier that saved her from this man.

Tonks basked on the tension that was firmly built on the man's burly body, knowing full well she was looking into the listless, empty eyes of the Morning Killer.

Though _how_ this Dark Wizard had managed to get into her cell without the guards or the Dementors knowing, or waking Cate up, Tonks couldn't begin to fathom it at all.

A chill crept on her pores, and Tonks could not help but fear a Dementor was close, as the breaths that escaped her cracked and parted lips as she struggled for air, formed as puffs of vapor in front of her mouth.

As her dilated eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, she could see all of the Morning Killer.

The perspiration on his brow, the thick inhales as he drew in breaths that were almost silent, his cold, trembling hands.

All of this all told Tonks one thing. That the murderer's foundations were his fury and unspoken pain, and it came to her as poison in the form of the man's strong hand around her throat.

"Wh—who…I…I _know_ you," she whispered, her voice escaping her lips as a mere croak.

She recognized those piercing eyes of green.

Tonks was surprised, given the pressure increasing around her throat that she could even speak at all. Her muscles felt frozen in place but filled with such a tingling pressure.

She wanted to bolt upright from her cot and wake Cate, scream for the witch Miranda to come and get this man off of her and out of their cell, to demand someone send a Patronus or an owl to Remus and put her under house arrest or something until this situation at the Ministry got resolved, and the Aurors knew this was just a mistake!

That she did not belong in prison, she belonged at _home_ with Remus and Teddy! Tonks squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

As much as she wanted to think of thoughts of her husband and newborn baby son, her anchor during times of darkness like right now, she knew thinking pleasant thoughts would only cause the Dementors to come _swarming_.

As much as she hated this, the only thing that was going to get her through this until Remus and Moody and anybody else in the Order that wanted to help get her out, she was going to have to think of unpleasant thoughts and memories in order to survive.

Tonks chose to focus solely on the fact that she was _innocent_. She did not belong in here, and they all bloody knew it, and Umbridge had had her arrested regardless.

After a moment of keeping her eyes squeezed shut, steeling herself, feeling as her eye twitched behind its lid, Tonks slowly opened her eyes, forcing herself to meet the man who had framed her, set her up to _suffer_ in here, without a hint of fear or recoil.

Though she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't afraid of this man, whoever he really was, Tonks knew she could not afford to show any signs of weakness.

She was not about to let the Morning Killer have the satisfaction of seeing her cry and beg, to plead for her life. _No_. She was not about to grovel in front of this wizard.

Tonks had been trained to mask her pain with apathy from the moment she entered into the rigorous training program to become an Auror the Ministry offered.

How the young witch did not give in to the man's fear only spurned him further.

The fingers around her neck wound even tighter, constricting what little air she did get.

Tonks felt her cracked lips part open to trying to draw in air, a muffled little squeak the only thing she was able to manage, a pitiful mewling sound of desperation and ire.

_He wouldn't be bloody serious…would he? He's going to get caught_! Tonks thought wildly, doubt pricking at her heartstrings, a surge of fear coursing through her.

The Morning Killer made no move to remove his hand from around her throat, and as such, Tonks had no other choice but to slowly relax her body and close her eyes.

As if this man standing over her, watching her was the hooded figure of Death.

And she would welcome Death like an old friend if there was but no other choice to get him to let go. This fact did not seem to sit well with him. The man's calloused fingers loosened, and a tense and tiring release sent a brief but welcome whiff of air to her lungs.

"You _belong_ in here, my dear pretty little witch," the man growled lowly, the edges of his voice rough and coarse.

His deep, dark voice echoed in her eardrums, and Tonks furrowed her brows as she turned her head to the side, coughing and gasping for air.

The Morning Killer continued addressing Tonks, not seeming to care that she could not even speak, given that he had almost attempted to strangle her just now with his bare hands.

"These accommodations, they _suit_ you, _witch_ , you deserve to _rot_ in here with the rest of them for what you have done, _Auror_ ," he spat bitterly, the hatred in his voice evident. "I am afraid I cannot stay. I merely wanted to…check in on you, see how you were adjusting to the comforts of your new _home_. I feel…quite confident that you and I will meet again soon, little dove. Oh, yes. We will."

His voice was dangerously soft and quiet, smoother than fine silk. The Morning Killer did not seem to want to stay too long.

Was he just going to kill her, then? Though he'd mentioned seeing her again.

Was the man toying with her? Messing with her mind? Playing a sick game?

Was _that_ it?

Too many questions were whirling around in Tonks's exhausted, sleep-deprived mind that she could not even begin to make sense of what was happening to her now.

Tonks did not even register the man's words or what he meant by that until it was almost too late.

Slowly, her heartbeats slowed their frantic beating within the confines of her chest until they resembled something close to normalcy.

Tonks glanced wildly around for her new roommate and didn't see her at all. Her cot on the top bunk was un-made.

No Cate, at least not anywhere nearby outside the cell that she could see, at least.

Had something happened to her? What time was it? Had she overslept?

Tonks briefly reminded what the witch at the reception desk in the front lobby had told her when Kingsley had escorted her in here last night, as Miranda had walked Tonks to her cell, telling her about how they did not wait if you overslept and missed mealtimes.

Surely, one of the guards would come looking for her if she weren't at breakfast?

Though considering that one guard, Henry, she thought his name was, had given Tonks an admonishing look that suggested everyone in here, including him, thought her _guilty_.

To scream and beg for an Azkaban guard on the Ministry's payroll to come and help her would prove futile.

She watched, repressing a whimper of fear, as the man's ears perked up upon hearing what sounded like the clacking of a woman's footsteps, _her_ heels, the Warden's, and swore under his breath through gritted teeth.

The man promptly turned his back on her, turning on the heel of his boot and Disapparating with an audibly loud _crack_! that caused Tonks to jump and let out a squeak of fearful surprise, a hand racing over her heart as she bolted upright.

In her haste to see what had caused the Morning Killer to flee from her, hit her head on the bottom of the topmost bunk bed in her and Cate's prison cell.

" _Ow_ …" Tonks groaned, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling as though it felt like a hammer was crushing onto her skull from where she'd bumped it.

She groaned, wincing as she gingerly rubbed the back of her head.

This was _not_ exactly turning out to be a good first morning as an official prisoner of Azkaban.

Exhaling a sigh of frustration, Tonks collapsed back onto the pillow, content to just lay here and bleed for a while.

For how long she didn't bloody know, but enough for the pain at the back of her skull to slowly reduce to a dull, aching throb that was tolerable.

"Nymphadora? I came to check on you. One of the guards stated you failed to report for breakfast this morning. And your cellmate, Cate, expressed concerns for you as well. Said you tossed and screamed in your sleep last night. Is everything all right, Mrs. Lupin?"

A familiar young witch's voice spoke up from the other side of the cell.

Tonks let out a tiny groan again and blearily lifted her head, trying to focus her blurred vision, which was slowly returning to her after the Morning Killer had almost strangled her not even a second ago, more than a few feet in front of herself.

It was Miranda. The older witch in her mid-forties, serving as the prison's Warden, was looking in Tonks's general direction with what the younger witch could only describe as a look of stern concern for Azkaban Prison's newest inmate.

_Like Minerva_ …

When Tonks offered no verbal reply as to why she was late, Miranda gave a curt wave of her wand and procured a pile of brand-new clothes, a long-sleeved black button blouse, a black belt, a pair of black jeans, and simple black ankle boots.

"Here," Miranda offered kindly, setting the folded pile of clothing on the edge of Tonks's bunk bed cot.

She waved her wand again and a brush and what looked to be a small supply of makeup appeared.

Noticing Tonks's furrowed brows of confusion, the older witch's mouth turned upwards slightly in a sardonic little smirk.

"We might confiscate you of your personal belongings upon arrival, dear, but don't take me to be _heartless_. We aren't savages. I mean you no harm. We received word via owl post this morning that your husband intends to visit you. I thought it best if you were to look somewhat _presentable_ during."

Tonks's heart gave a painful lurch in the confines of her chest as a newfound sense of hope surged within her veins. Remus was coming here to see her! She would be free!

_At least, if they were able to find that Muggle girl and retain her memories_ , her conscience piped up, and Tonks's frown deepened.

She bit down on her bottom lip in a slight pout, though she dipped her head in gratitude towards Miranda's offer of clothes.

"Th—thank you," she murmured, turning her back and hastily began pulling on the new clothes, feeling grateful that Miranda had thought of Lupin more so than her, probably coming to the conclusion that her husband would react in a volatile way if he saw her in her prison clothes.

Either that or she had overlooked that perhaps inmates these days were allowed to wear 'normal' clothing during their regularly scheduled visits from their loved ones and family members.

Something told her it was likely the latter.

Tonks caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror hung up on the wall opposite their bunk bed, something that Cate must have put up during her time here.

She scrunched her nose in concentrated thought, trying, and failing to revert her shoulder-length wavy hair that cascaded in natural layers from its natural ash-brown color.

Tonks had always hated that her natural hair color looked like a mouse, though whenever it got like this, sometimes it reminded her of Remus's hair, minus the grey.

Tonks worked quickly to apply the light, natural-looking makeup to her face, starting with a light foundation, hoping the concealer worked its magic to hide the darkened circles underneath her eyes, suggesting she'd not slept well at all last night.

Finishing off with a setting powder, and she swiped a coat of clear lip gloss over her lips and gave her reflection a curt nod, wishing with all her might she could do something about her hair.

Tonks huffed in frustration and took a curl of her light ash brown hair in her thumb and forefinger to twirl it while her brows furrowed in a light little frown.

Remus was coming to see her. The thought plastered like a quiet vibration underneath her skin, making it crawl.

But Merlin, she _missed_ him, and she had only been separated from her husband and baby Teddy for a day.

Tonks could not imagine, nor did she particularly _want_ to think what an entire _year_ in this wretched place was like.

Miranda must have sensed Tonks was growing uncomfortable, for she coughed once to clear her throat, causing the younger witch to flush a deep red in embarrassment.

Tonks jumped, turning around to regard Miranda with a furtive, guilty look on her face as she silently gathered up the makeup supplies and held them out to Miranda.

But to her surprise, Miranda shook her head no and waved them away with a brush of her hand.

"Keep them. We allow our inmates to look presentable during their visits. Something tells me you won't be enchanting your makeup anytime soon to try to turn it into a makeshift poison to try to kill your roommate in Miss Greengrass's sleep," the Warden of Azkaban Prison remarked dryly, allowing a dark little chuckle to escape her lips, which unnerved Tonks to no end, the implication that she was suggesting here.

Though there was a look in the Warden's eyes as Miranda met her gaze, that to Tonks suggested in some small way at least, that perhaps Miranda believed her innocence, and the older witch who reminded Tonks of Professor McGonagall in more ways than just appearances, at least it felt this way to her, to have taken a liking to her.

So _that_ was the reason, then.

Tonks nodded silently in understanding, dumping the supplies back on the small wooden night table next to the mirror, and made to follow Miranda out of the prison cell, where she was led down a dark hall and into a mess hall.

It briefly reminded her of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but dingier and not as welcoming, with no enchanted ceiling to match the moods. Tonks let out a tiny sigh.

Miranda pointed towards the breakfast line, motioning to Cate to come and collect her roommate and show Tonks the ropes.

"Good morning, Cate," Miranda answered somewhat stiffly as the young brunette witch close to Tonks's age bounded forward.

Cate responded in kind by turning her mouth up in an odd little smirk, bowing awkwardly with a theatrical, flourishing sweep that caused Miranda to sniff in disapproval.

"When's your visit?" Cate questioned to Tonks by way of a morning greeting.

"My visit…?" Tonks's voice trailed off as she threw a questioning look to her cellmate, glancing towards Miranda for confirmation, whose face remained it hit her. "Oh. With Remus. My—my husband should be coming to see me. With my son. I hope…You said he was coming. When—when can I see him? Will Remus come soon?"

Tonks fell silent as she craned her neck upward to regard Miranda in hopeful silence.

Miranda, much to Tonks's relief, nodded her agreement. "After breakfast, dear. You'll be granted a one-hour visit with your husband and son in the visitor's lobby. We don't permit wands in the lobby, and once your time is up, it's _up_. No exceptions. Given you have a two-week-old baby, we can arrange special arrangements for…if you need…"

The older witch's face suddenly took on a pinked, flushed look as she wildly gesticulated with her hands, and watched as a light ignited in the young cellmate's eyes.

Miranda was talking about her needing to feed Teddy. Now it was Tonks's turn to blush.

"I—I appreciate that, Miranda. I—I will take that into consideration. Thank you," Tonks murmured, ducking her head, and allowing a lock of her ash brown hair to fall in front of her face like a curtain so she wouldn't have to see Miranda's smirk of triumph.

The older witch offered a curt nod of her head, seemingly jumping at the chance to steer their topic of conversation towards something much more pleasant than breastfeeding an infant.

"You'll report to your job once your visit with your husband is over, Mrs. Lupin. From what Mr. Shacklebolt and a few others told me, you appear to be quite fond of reading, dearie. If that is the case, I think you would be well suited to become our new librarian. We're in _dire_ need of a new one after our last… _succumbed_."

Tonks gulped and flinched at the older witch's last words. Succumbed to what?

The Dementor's Kiss? A heart attack?

Was he or she killed by another inmate while jailed here? Tonks wasn't even sure she _wanted_ to know the answer.

But Miranda continued speaking as though she had not noticed Tonks's obvious, growing discomfort.

"Cate can show you where our library is. You'll work in the library from 1 pm until 4 pm on Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, which are our peak times for our readers. Your first appointment with Everett, your counselor, will be tonight at six-thirty, dear."

Tonks nodded her head slowly at all of the information as her mind processed it all.

Her contemplative expression slowly morphed into a frown as she thought of her surprise visit from none other than the Morning Killer.

It had been too dark to get a good look at the wizard's face or any other identifying features, except for his green eyes.

She had been able to find no trace, no semblance of warmth in the man's forest green orbs, which had stared at her with such contempt and disgust that she felt certain that a Dementor had been close by her cell at the time, with how cold the room had gotten when the Morning Killer had been in the cell with Tonks, almost killing her.

Though she had not been able to make out any details of the rest of his face, Tonks knew she did not want to linger on the awful way the Morning Killer looked at her.

There was that moment when the pads of his fingertips had grazed her the man had moved his surprisingly warm hand despite the callouses against her skin with subtlety.

There was something dangerous about the Morning Killer that, in Tonks's mind, almost made the creep even worse than Lord Voldemort, who had been dead now for a few weeks, the entire world, or at least Great Britain, coming to terms with the fact that the Dark Lord's reign was ended.

But seeing her target that she had been tracking now with Moody for the better part of the last six months, at least leading up to Teddy's birth, there was something dangerous about their guy, and it had nothing to do with the fact the man was a deranged psychopath who preyed on innocent young Muggles, kids and adults alike.

She was now essentially rendered useless to the investigation without her wand, trapped up here, locked up in Azkaban Prison like _she_ was the one who'd done it.

Tonks let out a shocked, surprised breath and flung her eyes wide open, startling both Miranda and Cate, who were both regarding Tonks with equal looks of concern.

_Should I tell Miranda_? Tonks thought, her frown deepening as the young Auror quickly weighed the pros and cons of telling.

It would, on one hand, increase the likelihood of added security, and she was still trying to wrap her mind around how the creep got past the guards and the Apparition enchantments, considering she had watched for herself as the man turned on the heel of his boot and Disapparated from her cell.

But on the _other_ hand, it was increasingly likely that no matter what she said, even though every word that Tonks would say would be the truth, Cate hadn't been in the room with her at the time to witness it, and Miranda would be forced to take Tonks solely on her word alone and choose to trust her.

Considering everyone else in here seemed to think that she was guilty of some unspoken crime, Tonks thought Miranda (or Cate, for that matter) would not believe her even if she were to tell them both the truth.

In the end, Tonks decided to keep her surprise visit a secret for now, for better or worse. At least until she could gauge just who exactly in this place she could trust wholly.

She did not want Remus to know that the Morning Killer had paid her an impromptu visit. Knowing that she was not safe even here in Azkaban Prison, this fortress, was not about to improve his mood, and he was still coming down off of the latest full moon.

Shivering, Tonks wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she remembered the moment, feeling his rough, calloused hand around the column of her throat.

Tonks, without even realizing she was doing it, felt her hand instinctively drift to her reddened throat, wincing as she felt the finger-shaped markings, those horrible indentations.

She had not even noticed them, or that her throat hurt until she started thinking of the man. Tonks hoped she would be able to hide the evidence from her husband later.

Tonks knew she did not want Remus to suffer any more on her account when because of her, her husband already was suffering a great deal because she had insisted.

She _had_ to just take the shift last night when Mad-Eye Moody had begged her to go. Remus had been right.

She shouldn't have gone.

Tonks let out a muffled groan as her throat hollowed and constricted, and she felt the onset brimming of hot, salty tears.

Tonks blinked them back as Miranda's soft, concerned voice cut through her thoughts.

"Mmm?" she murmured, turning towards Miranda and Cate guiltily.

Miranda sighed sadly as she stared at the youthful young witch opposite her and Cate, lingering near the back of the breakfast line as the line slowly inched forward.

She knew exactly what was happening to Mrs. Lupin.

The emotions she was feeling at being away from her family and her home, her friends. She had seen the process again and again with each new prisoner that came to Azkaban.

By keeping busy, by remaining focused on some menial task, very much like the jobs they assigned their inmates upon arrival, they could forget.

"Is everything all right, Mrs. Lupin?" Miranda asked again.

Tonks's head, which had been lowered, quite possibly so that neither Miranda nor Cate would not see the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over if she couldn't rein in control of her emotions, whiplashed sharply upwards at hearing the Warden ask her yet another question.

"Oh, y—yes, everything is fine!"

Her voice was jovial, and entirely too false for Miranda to consider it genuine.

Miranda nodded, not at all convinced, but she was not about to press the poor thing for an answer. She had a rough night of her first night here, Miranda could tell.

Nevertheless, the Warden exchanged a quick glance with Cate, who was looking rather nonplussed and merely offered a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, though Miranda could tell by the way that Cate's curious gaze stayed fixated on Tonks, her cellmate was curious and her interest was now piqued. Maybe she'd even make a friend.

Miranda sighed, thinking it would do Cate a world of good to have someone to confide in, particularly this bright young witch who Miranda firmly believed to be innocent, though as the Warden of Azkaban Prison, she had to be shown to be impartial.

At least until viable evidence came back to support Mrs. Lupin's claims.

"Everyone who stays within these walls is equal, dear. At least as long as I remain the Warden and am in charge," Miranda sniffed, just a hint of haughtiness in her tone as she puffed out her chest and stood a little taller, prouder, more confident than before. "The first couple of days while you adjust are usually the hardest, so if there is anything you need within reasonable accommodations, anything you wish to discuss, child, don't be afraid to come to me or to your counselor for help," Miranda advised her slowly.

Tonks blearily lifted her chin and blinked back the hot, salty tears that were marring and blurring her vision at the edges.

"Oh." Tonks stammered, unable to form much more of a coherent reply than that.

All she could do was stare and blink owlishly at both Miranda and Cate, touched, and quite frankly, in awe of the Warden's kindness.

Her new roommate didn't seem so bad, either. Cate's dark brows were furrowed in a frown as she was regarding her new cellmate with a look Tonks could only describe as something akin to pity in her eyes, as Cate promptly turned her back and got in the line.

If she was being completely honest with herself, Tonks had not expected anyone in Azkaban to be so kind to her, considering she had put numerous Dark wizards and witches behind bars here and had earned something of a reputation for herself at home.

Tonks had fully expected and had been anticipating that anyone she met within the prison fortress's walls to turn her away, to let her fend for herself in this strange place, to be rude to her, and generally unkind to an Auror of Great Britain's Ministry of Magic.

However, in her current state of unease and vulnerability, kindness coming from someone like Miranda, and to a lesser extent, Cate, felt like a stab in the heart with a rusty dagger, twisted so far into the confines of her chest that she couldn't pull it out.

Tonks could feel her eyes beginning to tear up for a second time in the span of an hour, though at least this time, a guy was trying to strangle her to death with his bare hands.

"Thank you, Warden," she croaked hoarsely, surprised at how small and meek her voice sounded, it was a wonder she could talk at all, ducking her head in shame as a pink blush speckled its way on her cheeks, setting them aflame, "I will take your kind words into consideration and think about your offer, but I'm sure I'll be just fine."

"Of course, dear," Miranda replied kindly, not blaming Mrs. Lupin in the least for not knowing how to react to the situation the poor young thing found herself in or seeming to give off a rather cold and indifferent response to Miranda's kind offer. "I need to return to the front lobby now to check on a few things. Cate will show you where the library is following your visit with your husband. If you would please tell Mr. Lupin to come to my office before he leaves you today, dear, I should wish to speak to him. An owl was delivered to me telling me to expect your husband and Albus Dumbledore at my office at ten o'clock sharp this morning. I am hopeful that if I could extract your memory, Mrs. Lupin, if you will permit me, and we can view the Muggle girl's memory whose life you saved in the alleyway, then I do believe there would be no further reason for you to remain here. If I had to hazard a guess, what is apt to happen is the Ministry will most likely put you on some form of house arrest until the pending charges against you are formally dropped, Mrs. Lupin."

Tonks blinked owlishly at the Warden of Azkaban Prison before quickly offering a curt nod.

Anything she could do to make her living situation a little easier here while she waited for Remus and Moody and that Muggle girl, Renee Barreau to help prove her innocence and get her out, she would.

"Y—yes, of course," Tonks stammered quickly.

The young witch watched as Miranda offered a curt goodbye to both Cate and Tonks, turning her back on the pair of witches, Tonks silently watching her leave.

She was plagued with a sudden onset of guilt and fear. The Morning Killer had made it evidently plain that his little surprise visit was not the last. She should have told Miranda about the Morning Killer.

Tonks furrowed her brows as Cate mumbled something unintelligent under her breath as the pair of them turned back around to face the breakfast line, waiting for their turn.

Why hadn't she told Miranda the truth, then?

The Morning Killer was unpredictable, unhinged. He had to be, considering the number of Muggles he had murdered in cold blood, each death more violent than the last.

One moment, he had proceeded to almost strangling her to death, and then the next, her would-be-assailant and the very man who she had a sinking feeling had played the main role in bringing her here, had sneered at her, and then touching her tenderly.

The wizard's green eyes had been full to the brim with unbridled rancor and rage, and Tonks had been sure the man was going to assault her right there in the prison cell.

She did not know if he had been frightened away by hearing Miranda arrive to come and collect her when she did, though one thing was certain. She owed her now.

Tonks could not help but wonder if there was a small part of the man's subconsciousness that had taken pity on her, that he had shown her some small semblance of mercy.

Or maybe he just realized that the Azkaban guards and Dementors would have caught him, not that that would be legitimate enough reason to cause the Dark wizard concern.

Tonks felt fairly confident the Morning Killer could get away with anything.

After all, she and a small group of other Aurors assigned to bring this wizard to justice hadn't been able to capture him for a solid six to eight months following his string of murders.

Tonks furrowed her brows, thinking there had been a moment, just before he had turned on his heel and Disapparated, where she had sworn those green eyes of his had looked at her, almost with such a strange sense of torment and pain on his face.

That she could not help but wonder if _she_ had somehow placed it there, perhaps.

Tonks would not know if for herself, but the bright young witch and Auror, wife to Remus and mother to Teddy Remus Lupin, her deduction on the Morning Killer was one very few in the wizard's life had ever dared to make, except for those who knew him best, how he operated, and unfortunately, those who did were his victims, and they were all much too dead for anyone to ask how he operated, how he thought, how he talked.

Nymphadora Tonks had the rare ability to be able to see past a person's exterior and into the inner worlds and psyches of those around her. It was why she excelled at her job as an Auror.

It was this that stumped the Morning Killer and left him angered and agitated for the rest of the morning. She'd achieved something no one else had. Tonks had held up the shard of glass that showed his reflection, and as a result, had managed to get one over on him.

Tonks shook her head to clear it, only half paying attention to whatever Cate was prattling on about, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of seeing Remus and baby Teddy.

Tonks could not have known it, but her encounter with the Morning Killer this morning was about to have major consequences, beyond anything Tonks could have ever imagined.


	15. Chapter 15

Several hours had passed, and to the best of her ability, judging by the way the outside world was still dark, given it was going on five in the morning, Albus and Remus were no closer to getting somewhere with the young blonde Muggle girl than they were when the chaos started and she fell through the ceiling of Grimmauld Place.

She hoped it would be relatively soon, as Molly had overheard Albus saying he and Remus would be heading to Azkaban to visit his wife and see what could be done to ensure her swift release and bring her home.

Molly Weasley was in the kitchen, the sleeves of her sweater overtop her housedress rolled up past her elbows, wand in hand while she supervised the washing of the leftover dinner dishes from the conclusion of tonight's Order meeting, her brows furrowed in a frown as she struggled to process this news.

Tonks had been falsely arrested and was being detained in Azkaban. Mrs. Weasley's ears perked up as the sound of heavy footfalls came towards the kitchen, and she turned, not bothering to stifle the small smile as she heard the cooing of baby Teddy in the crib that she had conjured from upstairs, alerted to the arrival of Sirius, Arthur, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, all of whom had exasperated looks on their faces, and none of them were looking pleased.

She paused in her task for a moment, listening with no small measure of curiosity as the small group conversed amongst themselves, particularly Hermione as she talked in hushed tones amidst Ron and Harry's arguing to fill the pair of young men in over what had happened to Remus's poor wife.

Mrs. Weasley sighed, instinctively feeling her fingertips curl into a tight fist around the handle of her wand, fully prepared to subdue either one if they came to blows. Ron and Hermione's breakup had been particularly difficult.

But especially for poor Ronnie, who, judging by the look of things, was not pleased at all to see the way that Hermione's hand hovered on Harry's shoulder as the three of them sat down across from Arthur and Sirius at the kitchen table, though Ron pointedly chose to ignore it and stay quite silent.

_Good boy_ , Mrs. Weasley thought, not even hearing herself breathe an audible sigh of relief, though her frown deepened as she noticed the darkened circles underneath Ronnie's eyes. He wasn't sleeping much these days, and though he would never dare come outright and admit it, Hermione breaking up with him was affecting him perhaps more than he would ever care to confess.

Mrs. Weasley heaved an exasperated sigh and joined the others at the table, plunking her wand on the table in front of her, just as Ron was in the middle of asking a question that he had posed to Hermione about the new girl.

_Renee, the poor dear's name is Renee_ , Mrs. Weasley reminded herself, giving her head a tired little shake to clear her mind, casting somewhat apprehensive glances towards the entryway of the kitchen, hoping that the girl and Remus would be able to come to a mutual understanding with one another.

"Is she dangerous?" Ron asked, his ginger brows furrowed in a frown.

Sirius made an odd little noise from the back of his throat that sounded like a grunt. He snorted and rolled his eyes, a look of disbelief on his face.

"No, of course, she isn't bloody _dangerous_. The girl's a _Muggle_ , Ron. What is she going to do to an entire group of wizards? Curse us all to death until she's blue in the face from how much she screams like a banshee?!"

Hermione shot Harry Potter and Teddy Lupin's godfather a dark look, her hackles raised as she suddenly came to the young blonde woman's defense.

"She—she doesn't know where she is, much less struggling to try to come to terms with the fact that magic exists," Hermione offered, ever the voice-of-reason between Ron and Harry, though she sounded, in Molly's opinion, rather cross. "She's confused, and Remus snapping at her did nothing to help the situation, though, from the looks of things back there, she'll talk to him eventually and make amends. We're going to need her memory before the night is out," Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, and tugging on her light blue blouse slightly as if she were hot.

Harry, Merlin bless his soul, shot his girlfriend a quizzical look, his brows coming together in confusion as he frowned, lost in thought.

"Why?"

Hermione's shoulders slumped forward in defeat, and Molly heard Hermione let out a haggard sigh, and when she lifted her face (they had been buried in her hands in exasperation at the turn the night had taken), she shot Harry Potter an incredulous look bordering on disbelief and a pitying look.

" _Evidence_ , Harry!" she exclaimed, sounding on the brink of hysteria as she carded her fingers through the ends of her thick brown ponytail. "Tonks is _falsely imprisoned_ for a crime that she did _not_ commit, and if the Warden of Azkaban Prison, as well as whomever at the Ministry, was responsible for ordering her arrest is able to view both Tonks and Renee's memories from tonight, then they should have no issue about _releasing_ her if they corroborate."

Hermione grumbled something inaudible under her breath, causing Harry to flinch away in antagonized hurt and surprise at Hermione's outburst.

A light pink blush speckled along Harry's cheeks and he murmured something unintelligible and proceeded to clamp his mouth shut and fell silent.

Mrs. Weasley's gaze continued to remain drawn to the entryway of the hallway that led into the kitchens, as though she kept hoping that Lupin's wife would materialize out of thin air and announce to everyone this was all a joke.

But when she did not, the weighted gravity of the situation suddenly hit Mrs. Weasley square in the chest with enough force to cause her to lean back in her chair and drown out the conversation among the others at the kitchen table.

The fate of Remus's wife now depended solely on Albus and Remus being able to calm down the young blonde woman in Headquarters' living room parlor long enough to hear her side of the story and extract her memory.

Molly could only hope they hadn't frightened the poor dear beyond belief, given all that she went through, and she hoped Tonks was managing ok. Mrs. Weasley squeezed her eyes shut and shot a silent prayer to Merlin above or whoever was up there that Tonks was coping well locked in Azkaban.

_We'll get you out, Tonks_ , Mrs. Weasley thought silently. _I promise…_

This she vowed.

* * *

Renee nervously fidgeted with her fingers, casting cautious glances at Remus out of the corner of her eyes, playing with her pinkish tipped fingers to keep them warm.

"Soooo…" She drawled, watching as the woman's husband stared listlessly into the depths of the fireplace, his brows furrowed, looking utterly lost and confused, much like she herself was feeling at the present time.

She no longer knew how long the three of them had been sitting here, waiting for her to collect herself and gather her thoughts.

Remus Lupin did not appear to be, in her mind, all together entirely present in her conversation with this other strange man, Dumbledore, though she supposed she couldn't entirely fault him for that.

She would have trouble paying attention too if she knew someone _she_ loved was rotting in a prison cell.

She slowly swiveled her head back around facing the front of her armchair, forcing herself to meet the elderly wizard's gaze. "Um, I suppose I should start at the beginning. R—right?" she stammered, fidgeting in her seat.

"That," Professor Dumbledore stated in his soft, quiet voice, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at the edges of his lips and flaring the whiskers of his beard upward, "would be a fine start in determining what has happened, yes?"

Renee nodded her agreement, leaning forward in her chair and shrugging into her black leather jacket for warmth as much as she possibly could, furrowing her brows in a frown, slumping her shoulders in defeat, wondering how the bloody hell to explain all of the crazy shit that had happened to her in a way that these—these _wizards_ —could possibly come to understand her side.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, taking a deep breath. "Why is it, that no matter _what_ I do in my life, even just waiting for the goddamned bloody train, I always manage to screw it up?" she growled angrily through her teeth.

Out of the corner of her vision, Renee saw Remus sanguinely lift his head and blink once, twice, three times and regard Renee's words with what she could only ascertain was an immense look of disapproval. She saw him part open his lips, as if to speak, and instead let out a sigh of frustration and chose to remain silent. He must have not been able to come up with anything to say to her that would help put her mind at ease after this horrible night she had endured, and as a result, had thought better of it, for he closed his mouth.

Dumbledore, if the man was at all confused by the young Muggle's words, did not allow his emotions to show on his face as he merely proceeded to look at the young blonde woman as though she were a fascinating specimen in a zoo that he had managed to capture and was not quite sure what to do with her, peering at Renee Barreau over the rim of his half-moon silver spectacles.

Albus sighed, lifting his glasses slightly to pinch at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before resting his hands in front of his lap.

No doubt, this little snafu was going to take some time to sort out.

"Please. You may begin to share with us your version of events whenever you feel you are ready." Dumbledore reached for his wand that he had perched on the armrest of his leather armchair, waving it once and conjuring three steaming mugs of tea, offering the first to Remus, who took it, but did not drink, merely proceeding to set it aside on a small wooden table nearest the fireplace, and remained fixated on Renee's questioning blue eyes.

The Hogwarts Headmaster made a visible show out of pouring one lump, two, and then three cubes of sugar into his teacup, waving his wand so that a spoon magically materialized out of thin air, causing Renee to jump.

She blinked, wide-eyed and watching in awe as the spoon proceeded to stir itself. The young blonde co-manager of the Broken Spoon Café swallowed.

"Sheesh. If our spoons could do that, they'd put me out of a job faster than I could blink an eye," she joked, her lame attempt at humor, and when neither Dumbledore nor Remus laughed, she let out a nervous little chuckle in spite of the trepidations she felt, reaching up a hand to tuck a stray wisp of her blonde pixie cut back behind her ear where it bloody belonged. "Just—just trying to diffuse the tension," she murmured, heat creeping to her cheeks.

"Please," Professor Dumbledore began courteously, peering at Renee Barreau over the rims of his silver half-moon spectacles. "You may begin your version of tonight's events whenever you feel that you are ready. While my colleagues and friends appear to have forsaken their manners, you may rest assured, my dear, that I, however, have not," he chortled, the edges of his beard twitching without him prompting it. "Do not allow Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin to intimidate you. Despite the way you were treated upon your most unorthodox arrival through our Headquarters' kitchen ceiling, they are honorable men."

Renee made a little noise at the back of her throat and scoffed, suggesting she did not particularly believe the Hogwarts Headmaster's words to describe how Sirius Black had treated her when she fell through the ceiling.

"Honorable?" she challenged, glancing towards Remus, who shot her an apologetic look for his best mate's behavior, though he offered up no verbal form of an apology. She huffed in frustration and looked to the fireplace. The young woman let out a tiny snarl and glowered into the flames of the fire, as though the hearth itself had done her some sort of disservice, just by existing.

Albus paused in mid-stirring of yet another sugar cube into his cup of piping hot tea, peering over his slightly crooked nose at Renee, an intrigued expression on his lined and weathered face, and Renee heard him give a sigh.

"If you are referring to Mr. Black, you need not concern yourself with him at the present moment, Miss Barreau, as I am afraid we have more _pressing_ matters to concern ourselves with, being how it is, Remus, that your wife has ended up in Azkaban Prison," he murmured, swiveling his head slowly and turning to regard Remus out of the corner of his eyes through his glasses. Remus, Renee noticed, straightened his posture at hearing his name.

"Yes, Headmaster," Lupin managed in a barely audible and hoarse voice, though it did not escape Renee's attention that he shifted in his chair and turned to regard Renee with a curious yet hardened stare that she did not like.

Though after a rather long and somewhat awkward, uncomfortable silence, Remus Lupin spoke up, a tone much kinder and more subdued than before.

"Miss Barreau, you have _literally_ fallen into a world not of your own kind, and we should like to do everything in our power to help you return home, however, before we can permit this, we need to ensure your safety. If you truly _did_ catch a glimpse of the serial killer that is indeed making headline in your own society's papers, then there is a high likelihood your life is in danger, and as such, we must take every available precaution to ensure you remain out of the Morning Killer's sight. You'll be safe with us. I promise."

"Um, e—excuse me, Mr. Lupin, b—but… _what_?" Renee's question escaped her lips as a breathy little squeak. Renee blinked owlishly. She must not have heard this man correctly. The sheer _audacity_ of this woman's husband and father of her child to even _suggest_ that the Phantom, or Morning Killer, or whatever the bloody fuck he called himself, the sick psycho that he was, could be after her, Renee Elizabeth Barreau, a nobody, was absolutely _insane_. Crazy!

She—she wasn't anything _special_ , what did a guy like that want with—

And then it hit her. She was, like it or not, a witness to the crime.

"Oh." She whispered it, realization hitting her squarely in the chest, and her chest heaved as she struggled to draw in breath as she knew why this man would take a sudden interest in her. If that had truly been him, a— _a wizard_ , she thought wildly, her nervous eyes flitting from Remus to the aging old man in rapid succession, then he had seen her face, and she was now labeled a witness.

The visions of the Morning Killer's face from the alleyway flitted through her mind. She couldn't be certain at the time, though she swore she had seen John's eyes flicker from their usual cold, hard gawking blue, to a brilliant green.

She swallowed, wondering if the creep the London law enforcement was tasked with apprehending was one of these people.

"Oh, my…what if he's a _wizard_?" she squeaked, her heart thrumming against the confines of her chest, and she clamped a hand over her mouth in order to calm her racing heart. It all made sense now. "He—he _has_ to be one of _your_ kind, right? Th—that's why the—the cops can't find any physical evidence of how those poor people died," she breathed, her blue eyes wide and round. "Am…am I in danger? Oh, my _God_ , he—he _saw my_ face! I _am_ in danger! The— _the Phantom knows who I am_!" she shouted, seizing on tufts of her hair, and tugging so damned bloody hard, Renee swore she felt the roots scream in protest.

She drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and nervously flitted her gaze from Dumbledore to Remus, searching for the truth.

The fact that both men merely proceeded to exchange a knowing, questioning glance with one another was not all together exactly reassuring.

Renee looked away from Albus and Remus for a good long moment, staring into the depths of the fire as though their piercing gazes did not bother her, though in actuality, it felt like their stares burnt a hole in her poor skull.

She blew out a puff of air with her cheeks, trying to will her pounding head to stop, and her poor racing heart to calm down before it gave out on her.

"Okay," she rationalized. "So….assuming that…this—this serial _wizard_ knows who I am," Renee began, speaking slowly and cautiously, hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of her mouth, and she repressed a shudder that threatened to travel down her chilled spine at the thought she was slowly but surely accepting the fact that wizards and witches were real here.

"Then you are in danger, and therefore, we cannot permit you to return home, my child. At least…not yet," Professor Dumbledore interjected kindly but sternly, his solemn words causing Renee's head to whiplash sharply up.

"Wh— _what_?" she squeaked. "B—but m—my brother, Billy! My—my cat!" Renee protested. "I—I have a _job_ here in London, _responsibilities_ , I—I would be missed at the restaurant I work at, and—and I—I can't just _leave_ …"

Renee ticked each of her points, wildly gesticulating with her fingers, which both Professor Dumbledore and Lupin thought rather odd, exchanging a quizzical glance with one another.

This young blonde woman was a girl who articulated and chose to speak with her hands, most unusual behavior, but not entirely unheard of.

Her voice lacked the conviction to sell the argument she really needed to make, and her next words died on the tip of her tongue as Renee got a good long look at Dumbledore and Remus's sympathetic looks.

Looks, she confessed, she wanted nothing more than to wipe off both of their faces, but considering she was a— _a what did they call me_? She thought.

"Muggle, Miss Barreau," Professor Dumbledore piped up, his cobalt blue eyes twinkling infectiously as the aging old wizard took note of her shock.

Renee blinked owlishly at the old man and merely nodded. _Right. A Muggle. A non-magic person_ , she thought, quirking a brow in suspicion his way.

He was a mind reader on _top_ of being a wizard _too_?

"Is there anything your magic _won't_ let you do?" she questioned, her curiosity getting the better of her despite her nervousness at being told she was not able to go home yet.

"Plenty, as it so happens, but I am afraid your question is immaterial to our discussion at this time," Professor Dumbledore offered curtly, though not necessarily unkind, though clearly quite eager to steer the topic back to their original subject matter of Renee describing exactly how she came to be here.

Renee felt her light blonde brows furrow into a frown. "Fair enough," she huffed in frustration, leaning forward in her armchair and propping her elbow up on one of the arms and resting her cheek in her right fist, frustrated.

The wizened old wizard with the egregiously long beard merely proceeded to offer the young blonde restaurant owner a surprisingly soft smile.

"Yes? I can sense that you are troubled and wish to ask us something."

"Well, I…" She paused, wondering how best to phrase exactly what was on her mind. Renee glanced down at her hands, which were resting on her thighs, her fingers giving spasmodic little twitches. "If I tell you _exactly_ what happened to your wife, at least, what I remember from tonight, which," she huffed, "isn't _much_ , Mr. Lupin, a—and I help you get Tonks out of jail, then will you help _me_ get back home, and keep me safe from this—this Phantom?"

She hated that the authorities didn't have any identifiable name for the man who walked the streets of London calling himself The Morning Killer, supposedly after the first family he had ever killed at dawn on a Tuesday.

Though she was quick to surmise if that were the case, then the cops would have caught the creepy bastard already and he would be behind bars.

"Yes." It was not Professor Dumbledore who spoke and broke the silence first, but rather Remus, who, as Renee sanguinely lifted her head, was surprised to see was regarding the young blonde woman with a pitiable look.

Renee nodded, feeling a swooping, churning sensation in the pit of her stomach, though, she had one last question burning on the tip of her tongue.

"Where…if I—I can't go home yet, then where will I stay? I—I don't think I should go to any of the hotels around here, what if he finds me there?"

Remus Lupin exchanged a knowing little look with the older wizard, before giving a curt nod of his head and slowly shifting in his seat to look Renee in the eyes. "If you're comfortable with it, you'll be staying with me. My wife and I own a small cottage in the countryside of Wales. It's small, nothing to boast of, but it's home," he murmured. "I will ensure I do everything within my power to keep you safe, and there's something else…"

Lupin's gaze flitted towards Dumbledore, who gave a curt nod and pulled his wand from the night table that he had set it upon, letting out a haggard sigh as Renee instinctively flinched and shirked away, her back pressing into the backrest of her leather armchair as far as she possibly could.

"Relax, my dear," Professor Dumbledore uttered in what Renee could tell was meant to be a soothing tone. "If you are amenable to this arrangement, I think that it will be the safest, and we need your memories from tonight. Particularly your encounter in Echo Alleyway with the killer and Mrs. Lupin."

Renee exhaled a tense breath that pained her lungs, casting a wary, distrustful look towards the wand held in Dumbledore's withered hand as he approached.

"Wh—n— _no_ , d—don't you want me to _tell_ you what happened?"

The young woman decided she did not like the hardened edge to the Hogwarts Headmaster's tone, and Renee sharply turned her head to the left, suddenly afraid to look the old wizard in the eyes, fearful of what was to come.

"You could," Remus offered with a casual shrug of his shoulders, that in Renee's mind, suggested otherwise. "However, our Wizenga—I—I mean, our legal systems within our wizarding community," he began, flustered, immediately trying to correct himself by not using terms in front of the young Muggle woman that she would not understand, "is going to want to see for themselves what happened. This is the easiest way. Word of mouth, Miss Barreau, is as I am sure you have learned for yourself, rather unreliable."

"What if—what if I say no to—whatever this is?!" she squeaked, unable to stop the prick of terror that pierced her heart like a rusted old dagger.

"It will not hurt you," came Lupin's voice calmly, smooth, melodious and smooth as silk, and with her eyes closed as they currently were, Renee's first thought of the man was that had she never gotten a good look at his face, at the atrocious looking scars that marred what would have been a handsome face otherwise, then her first impression of the man's voice was that he would have made one hell of a radio voice.

His voice was soft, smooth as silk, and rich. _The kind of voice a guy ought to have_ , Renee thought, a hint of admiration creeping its way into her thoughts, which she quickly brushed off.

_No_ , her conscience swore, cursing her for her stupidity. _This is dumb, this is wrong! You can't seriously be trusting the word of a stranger, Renee_!

The other voice at the back of her mind, one who sounded entirely too much like her deceased grandfather for comfort, chimed in with his two cents.

Renee swallowed nervously, struggling to find her inner resolve and her voice. "What are you wanting to do to me with that? Is—is it going to hurt me?" Renee breathed, feeling her breaths coming to her in ragged gasps.

Remus said something, though his voice was muffled and faint, and all Renee could hear in response were her own breaths. They sounded too slow.

_So_ slow, in fact, that if she had noticed someone else breathing so slowly, she might have feared for their health and gotten them a cup of water.

Was she really breathing that bloody _slowly_? She was surely going to die if she kept breathing like this. Renee drew in a breath and attempted to breathe quicker. Her lungs needed more than one damn breath per minute.

She felt like she was hyperventilating, having a panic attack, but the sound of her breaths, which she could hear all around her, were so damn slow.

No one could live while breathing like this. "I…" she stammered, though Tonks's husband spoke up and interjected before she could continue.

"It will not hurt," Remus spoke up again in a tone that Renee supposed was meant to be soothing. "What we are hoping to do if you would just allow yourself to _relax_ is extract your memory of what happened in the alleyway. It's sort of like your Muggle video cameras in the shops you frequent. Think of what we want from you as a form of physical evidence. With your memory and my wife's memories combined in a device that we call a Pensieve, sort of like a TV that plays back old memories, like a record, it should be enough to secure my wife's release from prison. It is quite painless. You will not feel a thing."

"But _why_?!" Renee exclaimed desperately, bolting from her chair so fast to escape the man pointing his wand at her hand, praying he didn't kill her.

What if this was all just a bloody _trap_ , and just like a gang or a cult, if they got what they wanted from her, they killed her in the end anyway, and dumped her chopped up body into pieces and threw it in the river somewhere?

Renee gesticulated wildly about the dimly lit living parlor with her hands, ticking off everything that had happened to her tonight.

They wanted the truth. These men wanted answers.

Oh, she'd bloody _give_ it to them, then.

Things were not adding up at all, though Renee felt her temper surge to dangerous levels as her fear manifested itself as anger, as it always tended to.

"You want me to talk?" she yelled. " _Fine_! I'll _talk_!" she spat. "Let's see, where to start. I was waiting for the train. I took a shortcut through Echo Alley tonight to call a cab and try to beat the rain, when my ex-boyfriend John Newall cornered me in the goddamned alleyway and tried to almost rape me, but your wife," Here, she looked towards Remus with a wild, unhinged look in her eye, " _saved_ my sorry ass tonight, and I don't bloody know _how_ she did it! But _then_ she said that John wasn't _really_ John, and it was actually the Phantom, a—and before she could slap a pair of cuffs on the _pervert_ , two of _your_ people showed up and bloody arrested _her_ , and she told me to find you and some guy called Moody and let you guys know what happened, before she made me step in a disgusting, filthy ass trash-can lid and I fell through your bloody ceiling!"

Renee's explanation left her lips as a strung-together, fragmented sentence, all in one breath and spoken quite fast, though she wasn't finished.

"And _now_ ," she shouted, her voice rising an octave as she wildly paced in front of the fireplace, still continuing to gesture like mad with her hands, "you're telling me this creep is not _only_ after your _wife_ , but me _too_?! I—look, Mr. Lupin, no bloody offense, you seem like a nice guy and all, but I'm _not_ going to your home with you," she growled angrily. "I don't even _know_ you!"

Remus was the first to break the stunned silence, and when he did, as he rose from his chair slightly in an attempt to calm her down in her distressed state, the man looked rather exasperated.

His scarred face twitched sporadically, causing the skin near his grotesque-looking scars to become pulled taut and tight, and Renee shirked away, thinking he looked… _beastly_.

He did not answer her, though he did shoot her a questionable look that Renee wasn't at all sure that she liked.

"You say that as if you have a choice." The edges of the man's voice were clipped and hard, his patience tested.

His light brown eyes flashed dangerously, and a strange, flickering fire of sorts danced behind his darkening brown eyes as he dared Renee to challenge him.

"I'm _not_ going with you, Mr. Lupin! No matter if some pervert is after me, I'd rather take my chances out there on my own, guy! This _has_ to be bullshit! I'm not going with you, Remus!" Renee bellowed, pointing a shaking hand towards the door, and pointing to it with her index finger. "I'm not going to go home with you! You're a _stranger_ , and I _don't_ know you, Mr. Lupin, and if I'm being perfectly honest with myself, I don't _want_ to know you! No matter if I'm in danger," Renee whisper-hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm not going with you! **I WON'T**!" she screamed, balling her shaking hands into fists, and feeling her blue eyes darken until they were almost cerulean in color.

"My dear young lady!" Professor Dumbledore rose abruptly from his chair, his pristine gray robes billowing around him as he silently conjured some unseen wind that wafted through the room, tousling her blonde bangs off her forehead, causing Renee to shiver, though not from cold, but rather, from fear.

Several of the candles that had been lit on top of the hearth's mantlepiece as well as the chandelier hanging overtop their heads were all of a sudden extinguished, and as a result, plunged the entire living parlor into darkness.

Startled and terrified of the ancient old wizard in front of her, Renee let out a muffled yelp and stumbled backward in the vain attempt to put as much distance between the old wizard (if that was indeed truly what this was and not some horrible alcohol or coffee-induced nightmare she had yet to wake from!) as possible, though the young woman's husband slowly advanced.

Renee cursed and swore under her breath as she stumbled over the leg of the very armchair that she had just vacated, and she promptly lost her footing.

The young blonde fell back into the very same armchair she had just been sitting in, and collapsed back into the chair, a look of stunned disbelief on her face, her lips parted open slightly and a look of terror brimming in her eyes.

She swallowed as she gaped, open-mouthed at the pair of wizards. If the other man from earlier, what was his name?

Sirius Black, who had so violently threatened her life before and held her throat hostage with his own damn wand was terrifying, then she thought this was a hundred times bloody worse, then.

The Morning Killer, this guy, this Phantom, was after her, had no doubt seen her face in Echo Alley this evening, was after Lupin's wife, Tonks, too.

And to top it all off, they were asking her to go _home_ with this man! Remus Lupin, although she guessed under better circumstances, was probably quite kind, was still nevertheless very much a stranger in Renee's life, and she could not— _would_ not—put her trust in a man whom she didn't even _know_.

She had fallen through a bloody ceiling, magically transported to here, wherever 'here' was in London, unable to go home to her kid brother and cat, and was in no condition to call up their next-door neighbor in their flat's complex and explain why Renee might not be coming home, for several days, had her poor throat held hostage by that man with his wand, threatened, chased, interrogated, and now Renee could bloody add being told what to do and ordered to go home with a stranger to his house under the guise of being 'cared for.'

Oh, and being shouted at! What was it about tonight that sucked?

Why did God really _hate_ her so much? What _had_ she done to piss Him off, huh? Why was she here? Where was here? And don't even get her started on the whole 'witches and wizards' mess! Renee's mind felt like it was reeling.

_Oh, my God, what if people in my life are secretly like these people_?!

Confused wasn't even half of what Renee Barreau was feeling right now, and again, she felt the beginnings of hot tears pricking at the edges of her vision, stinging, and threatening to blind her if she could not tamper it down.

"Miss Barreau?" The magnificent voice that belonged to Remus, was quiet and non-judgmental, for which, at the very least, she was grateful for.

Renee flinched and drew in a sharp breath that sounded like a snakelike hiss as she felt the all too familiar touch of a hand on her left shoulder, and a light pressure that she was quick to recognize as Mr. Lupin squeezing onto it.

However, she shirked and flinched away, violently wrenching her arm away from the man's rough and calloused hand. She did not want this—this _monster_ —touching her, and she did not raise her head from looking at her lap.

Renee just wanted to bloody be well left alone for the rest of the night.

She wanted to wake up from this caffeine-induced nightmare, because what the hell else could it be if not that? Or maybe John had drugged her somehow….

"Miss Barreau, _please_ ," came Albus Dumbledore's voice, soft and sounding somewhat ashamed. "I must apologize to you. Now it is I who have lost my temper with you. I should not have. It was incredibly rude and inconsiderate of me. I did not mean to disregard what you must be feeling."

Renee silently seethed, bristling at the old, aging wizard's apology, grinding her teeth so hard that she felt her jaw lock and she shut her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to raise her head and scream at the old bat, telling him that yes, he had been quite rude and inconsiderate just now!

Renee wasn't bloody in a patient mood and certainly not in the right frame of mind for these tricks and riddles and roundabout half-answers, simply because she did not understand her surroundings, they were _toying_ with her!

None of what had happened to her tonight was her damn bloody fault, but they were sure acting like it was, especially Professor Dumbledore, really! And Lupin, oh, Lupin! She saw how Tonks's husband looked at her.

It was evident judging by the aloof way he was regarding her, he didn't like her.

Not that Renee cared or not whether Mr. Lupin gave a damn about her or not, though considering she had been the one to tell him his wife was in jail, she guessed she could give him a pass for that one, but still! She had not asked for any of this.

Hell, she didn't want any of this! She had enough problems back at home, between trying to keep Billy in line from flunking out of school for misbehavior and acting out ever since their parents died, managing the Broken Spoon Café, and trying to juggle her guardianship duties was enough! And _now_ …she was about to go in hiding from a magical serial killer. Renee made an odd noise from the back of her throat that sounded like a snort.

This was all too goddamned much. Every last second of bloody tonight.

She shoved her white-boned knuckles into her mouth and bit down hard to stop it from escaping her lips, thinking if she started laughing here and now, it wasn't going to reflect well on her character, and it'd send her mind insane.

" _Just—just go away_!" Renee bellowed, or rather, she tried to, though when she attempted to shout at both Mr. Lupin and this Hogwarts Professor, the old man, to leave her alone, she flinched at how meek, how small she sounded. How hoarse her voice was from the shouting match she'd had earlier.

When neither Remus or Professor Dumbledore made no move to honor her request, her head whiplashed sharply upward, and she did not bother to flick away the tears that began to roll down her cheeks in succession, one right after the other.

_"Leave me alone_!" she screamed, drawing her knees close to her chest and burying her head in her arms, letting out a strangled, muted yell.

For a long, awkward moment, there was nothing but a heavy silence.

And then there was the sound of the two men murmuring to one another, and then the unmistakable sound of retreating footsteps. And then, she was alone.

Renee refused to lift her head and look around to verify this fact, even as her lips trembled and her shoulders heaved with emotion, not backing down. She had been harassed. She was well within her rights as a human being, non-magical or not, to demand a moment's peace to fucking _deal_ with all this.

Her dark eyelashes brimmed heavy with a fresh wave of briny, salty liquid, the edge of her little slender nose turning red. Her hands clenched into shaking fists, her fingernails scraping the material of her jeans in utter agony. In a desperate and losing battle against her grief and confusion, Renee bit her bottom lip hard enough that she soon tasted the blood that welled there.

Renee's crying was both ferocious and noisy. She blinked briny tears from bloodshot eyes, her thick lashes stuck together in clumps as if she'd been swimming. The tears made wet tracks down her face and dripped from her chin.

Clear watery snot streaked from her flaring nostrils down her red mottled skin to her open quivering lips. Her hands opened and closed, rhythmically clenching as if there could be some violent solution to her confusion and her pain if only she could find it.

But the two men had done as she had asked.

They had left her alone.


	16. Chapter 16

Albus Dumbledore heaved an exasperated sigh as he watched the young blonde Muggle girl's mind start to shatter and collapse within herself, though the Hogwarts Headmaster could not fault her for her initial reaction upon learning that magic, witches, and wizards existed.

Not to mention, stepping through a Portkey and falling on top of Sirius Black's kitchen table, and now being forcefully told that she was not permitted to return home to her family until The Morning Killer was apprehended, being forced with no other option available but to stay with Remus for the time being until this was sorted out.

He supposed, were _he_ in _her_ shoes, he would have had a similar reaction. The aging old wizard's eyes softened and glistened with an emotion akin to sadness as he peered at the young woman, who seemed to be roughly Remus's wife's age, twenty-six or seven years old, Renee Barreau was, if he had to pinpoint her age, through the lenses of his half-rimmed, silver moon spectacles.

Professor Dumbledore slowly raised one of his withered hands, his good hand, the one not injured by accidentally putting on Tom Marvolo's old ring, and allowed it to pass over the heavily lined features of his tired face. When the appendage ghosted over the bridge of his nose, Albus paused for a moment, and gave it a slight pinch, lifting his glasses slowly in a show of frustration.

Out of the corner of his eye as he made to turn away, he noticed Miss Barreau almost sanguinely lift her head and regard him in silence, though she said not a word, he could see the beginnings of tear tracks forming in her eyes.

Albus shot the young woman what he hoped to be an apologetic glance as best he could, given what she must be feeling after such a taxing night, and silently motioned for Remus to please follow him into the kitchen to give the others who had witnessed that little display in the living room parlor an update.

As he settled into the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, whereby this point late into the evening, the only ones waiting for an update, given the lateness of the hour, were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, all of whom were looking exhausted.

Albus did not bother to stifle his chuckle at seeing Sirius bounce the newborn baby on his lap, entertaining the two-week-old infant with stories of his and Remus's miscreant youthful adventures at Hogwarts.

The baby was entirely too young to understand a word of what his godfather was saying in animated tones, though the sight was a welcome change from Black's earlier demeanor towards the young Muggle girl, who, Albus knew, was not going to react kindly towards Sirius or Remus at this point in time, and he owed it to the three of them sitting at the table to say as much.

Albus peered at the group gathered around the kitchen table, sitting, waiting, and all of them acting like polite adults while they waited for the Hogwarts Headmaster and founder of the Order of the Phoenix to gather his thoughts. As he did, it quickly became clear to him that the poor creature was not quite ready to accept her newfound change in environment, nor her reality.

Her grim future reality is that, until the Aurors could manage to catch this serial killer, the young Muggle girl could _not_ be permitted to return home. It appeared to him as well that Dumbledore (who considered himself quite an excellent judge of character) could find no lie within her glistening sky-blue orbs when he had spoken with her in an attempt to coax the truth from her lips.

Only that of severe confusion and a great deal of fear at her unknown circumstances of what was going to become of her, her job, and her family.

Albus could sympathize with Miss Renee Elizabeth Barreau, he really could, though no fool was he. He simply _could_ not permit the young woman to return to her home, to the life as she knew it while their suspect remained at large.

Whoever she saw in the alleyway tonight has framed Mrs. Lupin, he thought agitatedly, sighing deeply for the third time in the span of a single hour, and the troubled feeling that pricked at his conscience at the back of his mind was beginning to grow, festering, spreading like Dark magic in the confines…

Professor Dumbledore grunted wordlessly once to clear his throat, the edges of his beard twitching without prompting.

"I _do_ hope you are quite _pleased_ with yourself, Mr. Black," he grumbled irritably, glowering at Sirius.

The Hogwarts Headmaster did not bother glancing around the kitchen as the man in question, along with Arthur, Molly, and Remus swiveled their heads up and to the entryway of the kitchen, where Dumbledore lingered in the doorway, though he felt the atmosphere tense up and he could swear he felt a chill prickle as gooseflesh on his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck stood as he moved swiftly towards the table and made to stand next to Sirius.

Sirius's own expression, much to Remus's chagrin as the distraught father of Teddy Lupin and wife to Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin moved to stand by his friend, having placed a gentle hand on Sirius's shoulder, as if to caution him, rapidly changed from one of an eerie, calm content look, to one of growing rage.

Professor Dumbledore could practically see the tension emanating off of the younger man's shoulders in waves as Sirius's hands shook, and he thought for a moment that he heard Harry Potter and Teddy Lupin's godfather growl with the effort to restrain himself, not wanting a repeat of what happened earlier.

Though Remus quickly removed his hand the moment he felt and witnessed Sirius half-rise from his chair, Sirius's formerly pensive expression melting, sliding off his face, only to quickly be replaced by one of immense irritation as he silently handed his two-week-old godson back to Remus.

Sirius's dark brows furrowed in a frown, creating lines upon his otherwise smooth forehead, and the corners of his mouth curled downward, creating a deep groove near his mouth, and in the dim light of the kitchen, Sirius Black looked truly haunted and emaciated, much as he had years ago when he had first escaped from Azkaban Prison.

"And _what_ ," Sirius growled in a lowly bark, his tense voice almost reverberating off the walls of his parents' kitchen, "pray to tell me, Albus, is it that you think I've _done_? You cannot _blame_ me for my reaction towards that woman falling through _my_ ceiling," he snarled, his lips curling upward to regard his gums in a most doglike, animalistic lowly snarl.

Professor Dumbledore merely proceeded to raise his eyebrows in alarm and peered at Sirius Black over the rims of his silver half-moon spectacles, gazing down at the man who was a good head or two shorter than he was.

His blue eyes, normally alight with a twinkling sense of mischief, held none of the kindly warm sparks that could usually be found within, and instead, when Sirius lifted his chin and met Albus's gaze, he was met with disapproval.

"The young woman is understandably distraught, beside herself with a great deal of confusion and is in an immense amount of fear. Given the circumstances, Miss Barreau is in no condition to be approached by you, Black, or anyone else for that matter at the present moment, until she's had some time to process the harsh reality of her current situation. I cannot permit her to return home, sir."

It did not escape Professor Dumbledore's attention that Remus, Molly, and Arthur all shot each other worried glances, clearly wary of an impending argument that was beginning to escalate between the two men if Albus could not implore Sirius to see how this was going to work from a new perspective.

Sirius merely narrowed his light gray eyes at the older wizard before huffing in frustration, having a feeling he knew where Albus was going with this, and he was quick to decide, judging by the way a coil in his gut twisted and churned, that he did not like. At all. He pretended to ignore Remus noticing the glimpse of resigned frustration, and that hint of guilt on his handsome face.

Lupin noticed the shift in his friend's behavior and couldn't help but feel pity for Sirius. It wasn't his fault the young woman had unceremoniously and clumsily fallen through his parents' kitchen ceiling. He had not asked for this.

_Just as I didn't expect Dora would get arrested tonight_ , he thought bitterly, clenching his teeth in anger, feeling his molars lock together in rancor.

Sirius inwardly groaned, stifling his urge to roar like an enraged, wild dragon as he noticed the man's eyes suddenly alight with that suspicious spark.

If Albus noticed Sirius catching onto his sudden shift in his countenance, he paid it no mind. The Hogwarts Headmaster proceeded to clasp his fingers together, wincing only the once as the blackened, charred skin of his hand brushed against his other good hand. He scrunched his nose and pulled a face but did not comment.

The corner of Albus's lips twitched as he fought back the beginnings of a smile.

"It would seem that, given the young woman's unfortunate circumstances of merely being in the right place at the wrong time, we find ourselves at an impasse. Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin has been falsely arrested for a crime that all of us here in this room knows she did not commit. However, that will not be enough to satiate those at the Ministry or the Warden of Azkaban Prison merely based on our word of mouth," he sighed.

"Her memory?" Sirius prodded, a hint of annoyance laced throughout his tone, and it did not escape Dumbledore's attention at how hoarse the man sounded. "Were you able to extract it?" he asked, looking to Remus for confirmation, who promptly shook his head no, though he said nothing.

"I am afraid that she is still quite mistrustful of us, given the circumstances and the manner in which she arrived here tonight," Albus continued, furrowing his greying brows at Sirius's constant interruptions.

Albus shot Sirius a withering look that would have turned the man to stone had Professor Dumbledore the ability. "Particularly _you_ , Mr. Black."

Sirius bristled, silently seething. "So, what, then, do you suggest we do about it?" he barked by way of response, his frown deepening. "We _need_ her memory to free my cousin! We can't just _forcefully_ extract it from her, Albus!"

Albus nodded his head in agreement. "No, that we cannot. If we were to try, we would only succeed in frightening the poor creature even more than she already is, not to mention besides, in her panicked state of mind, we would risk her memory of tonight in Echo Alley becoming damaged, hazy. She might not remember the details exactly as they were, which would prove detrimental to our goal of ensuring your wife returns home to you and your son, Remus."

Lupin slowly swiveled his head to regard the Hogwarts Headmaster and his best friend, clutching his son in his arms close to his chest.

"I have extended the offer to have her come back with me to our home, but I don't think it wise at this point in time, Albus, given how you all saw how she reacted towards…. _this_ ," Remus murmured, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks as he shifted Teddy in his arms, using his free hand to gesticulate wildly towards the grotesque-looking scars on his face.

Sirius paused, feeling the worst of his anger dissipate as he heard the antagonized hurt tones laced throughout his best mate's voice as it warbled.

He bristled, thinking it wasn't bloody right of that Muggle woman to judge Remus based on his appearances, on his scars. He had not asked to be a werewolf. And then, a thought occurred to him, one he felt instantaneously foolish for not having considered before.

_She doesn't the truth about Moony_.

Sirius had always prided himself on being a man who had been taught growing up not to judge others based on looks (of which Moony, Sirius hated to admit it, wasn't exactly the most handsome bloke in London, and never would be with his scars) or his occupation (in this case, he didn't have one, though he blamed the Anti-Werewolf Legislation Act for Moony's inability to find work.)

As such, the girl in his living room parlor, sitting in his chair while she sorted through whatever myriad of emotions were flitting through her head, did not know of the troubles that poor Remus faced when it came to the world, how the rest of wizarding society treated a man with his current condition.

And because this girl, Renee Barreau, did not have a grasp on the daily struggle his best mate faced, she was as a result, unaware of the wound she had inflicted. Sirius heaved a heavy sigh, already knowing where Albus was headed.

Sirius inwardly groaned, not wanting to offer the Muggle woman a room, but he could tell by the growing look of annoyance in Professor Dumbledore's shining blue orbs, the man was waiting for Sirius to make the offer of his own volition.

"She—she can stay here, Professor. If she is in danger as you say that she is, though I _still_ don't _like_ her," he growled, still not sure he fully trusted her story that Tonks had sent her, wondering if she was allied with the Death Eaters, or perhaps somehow put under the influence of the Imperius Curse.

He gave his head a curt shake to clear it and continued.

"I'm not about to turn a young woman out on the streets alone with a killer after her. I can prepare one of the spare bedrooms up here for her to sleep in. Moony, you and Teddy stay too," Sirius murmured, glancing sideways at Remus out of the corner of his eye. "With that _creep_ after your wife, _my baby cousin_ ," he growled through gritted teeth, "there's a good chance he's been following her for a long time, Moony. I _don't_ want you and Teddy returning home tonight, or the next few nights, for that matter. I don't think it's safe for you to be alone. Stay here."

If Remus was surprised at all by the nature of Sirius's request, he hid it well. He inclined his head as a show of gratitude. "Thank you, Sirius. We will."

Professor Dumbledore gave a curt nod of his head in agreement, absentmindedly twirling his wand in between his fingers, a contemplative look in his eyes. One that Sirius knew immediately as the Headmaster turned his gaze on him that he knew he did not like.

This was _not_ going to be good.

"Excellent, Mr. Black," he murmured courteously by way of responding, inclining his head slightly as a show of respect. "Since you have so graciously opened your home to the poor dear, I'll leave it to _you_ then to ensure that our guest stays out of trouble," he added, unable to stop the small smirk from forming on his face as his beard twitched of its own accord. "I am, for the time being, appointing you personally as Miss Barreau's protector, Mr. Black."

"I…" Sirius stammered, feeling his face flush red in anger at the indignation. This was not at _all_ what he had meant by the gesture of opening his home to the young Muggle lass, and the fact that he had no apt response to offer up by way of a follow-up retort, knew that it spoke volumes to Albus.

Albus merely proceeded to study Sirius's rapidly reddening face in a wave of flustered anger as he peered at Black over the rims of his spectacles, cobalt blue eyes twinkling with what Remus could only describe as laced with mischief.

Professor Dumbledore folded his hands together in front of him.

"That would settle it, then. Remus, I will expect you to be ready at 9:45 to accompany me and Miss Barreau to Azkaban Prison. Given it is currently only…" Here, he had to pause for a moment to glance up at the clock on the wall, "five past five o'clock in the morning, it is still early yet, but I _do_ recommend getting some sleep while you are able. Your wife will surely have words to say to you later today if you show up looking like you currently do," he explained tiredly.

He turned towards Sirius and fixed Black with an admonishing, icy-blue stare. "I will expect you to treat Miss Barreau with a modicum of kindness going forward, Sirius, given you're her new partner for the time being. If you do _not_ , I shall know," he grumbled darkly, promptly turning his back on Sirius and the others and politely excusing himself, saying he would return in a few hours.

Without so much as a word to the others, Albus Dumbledore turned on the heel of his boot and with the familiar all-too loud _crack_! Disapparated and left.

Sirius groaned in exasperation and thumped his hand alongside his forehead and down his face. What in the name of Merlin's left saggy testicle was Dumbledore thinking?! Was the old wizard finally off his rocker? Cracked? Touched in the head?! He—he could not— _would_ not—be her guard!

Padfoot whiplashed his head sharply upwards to regard Remus and shot his best mate what he hoped was a pleading look of true, genuine desperation.

" _No_ ," Remus answered firmly, a muscle in his jaw twitching and the skin of his brow pulling taut, and Sirius watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as Moony promptly shook his head and shifted his son in his arms.

" _Please_ ," Sirius begged, shaking his head, carding his fingers through his dark shoulder-length locks. "Words aren't my strong suit, Moony. _Help_ _me_."

But Moony shook his head. " _You_ are the one who created a wedge between the two of you, Sirius. Whatever relationship we're expected to form with Miss Barreau until my wife is released and we can send the girl home where she belongs, needs repairing, and this cannot come from me. You are the one she has not yet made amends with, and this partnership of yours and Miss Barreau's is only going to _work_ between the two if you are the one who takes the initial first steps. She has _nothing_ to apologize for, Sirius. She was well within her rights to be mad, with you, _and_ with me. For my own part, I know I should not have lost my temper with her. I've apologized, though, and she seems to have forgiven me," Remus spoke up, something in his previously hard expression softened slightly as he looked at his best friend and last fellow surviving Marauder aside from Peter, who, though the two of them would never admit it out loud except to one another in private, they hoped the traitor was suffering, that his betrayal would ultimately be the man's downfall one day.

Sirius resisted the urge to seize on tufts of his hair and pull them out, almost growling as he gnashed his teeth together with the effort to restrain himself. _Merlin damn you, Albus_ , he thought angrily, feeling his nostrils flare.

Remus, sensing Sirius remained unconvinced, heaved a sigh and turned away, baby Teddy cooing quietly in his arms as he turned to quit the scene of the kitchen and make to head upstairs to get what little sleep he could manage.

Though not before Lupin paused and risked one last glance over his shoulder. "It's going to be up to you to make the first move and apologize, Sirius," he murmured, his voice sounding less hoarse than it did earlier, which Sirius took to be a good sign. It meant that Moony had calmed significantly.

Sirius merely grunted wordlessly in response, though then a thought hit him.

He did not exactly know what to do to provide some modicum of comfort to the young Muggle woman. This was the first Muggle that had ever dared to set foot in his parents' house. He snorted. No doubt his mum's screaming portrait and blasted Kreacher, Merlin damn that wretched, accursed house-elf, would have a few choice insults to sling her way once they laid eyes on her.

"What do you suggest I do, Moony?" he asked, letting out a sigh and reaching up a hand and gingerly rubbing his neck before moving and doing the same to his right arm. "You _saw_ the way she was looking at me in there!"

Remus nodded. He had seen it. In an eerie way, it had caused Remus to feel an inexplicable feeling of déjà vu when he had sat with Renee Barreau and Dumbledore in the parlor, being reminded of the first time Tonks looked at him. Though look at how that turned out, he thought, not bothering to hide the soft, gentle smile that crept at the edges of his lips, much to Sirius's chagrin.

" _What_?" Sirius snapped moodily, not getting his friend's sudden shift in countenance. "You _know_ something, Moony. What aren't you telling me?"

Lupin chuckled to himself and shook his head to clear it, turning back around to head upstairs, though his need for sleep and to put Teddy down in his crib did not stop him from calling out to Sirius over his shoulder as he left.

"Might I suggest starting to make amends over a good cup of hot tea?"


	17. Chapter 17

The very night Tonks had been arrested, Auror Alastor Moody had technically been off of work.

Moody had been appalled and disgusted to learn that his young protégé and mentor had been lured out of her home until false pretenses, that he had written her a letter demanding she come here to this wretched alleyway that smelled of dank mold, death, and bodily fluids that caused him to scrunch his nose (what was left of it!) in disgust.

He let out a growl of frustration and Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody swore underneath his breath, leaning heavily to one side on his wooden walking stick for support as his magical eye swiveled this way and that, surveying the very spot in Echo Alley where _he_ had stood.

_The Morning Killer_.

Just the mention of the unknown wizard's name was enough to send a chill down Alastor's spine and plastered as a quiet vibration under his scarred skin, what was left of him.

It had to be bloody going on five o'clock in the Merlin-damned morning, and he was no closer to find out what happened to Tonks than he was several hours ago, when Kingsley had sent him an urgent message via owl post explaining what had happened, and for him to meet him here.

In the half-light of the early morning, the alleyway was deserted, eerie.

It wasn't just that the air itself around the grizzled old Auror was still, it was that the air didn't bloody move at all. The leafy avenue was bereft of noise, as if every murmur and rustle were stolen away in the nighttime.

The sky above his head was empty, not just of birds, but of clouds too.

There was no weather at all. The air simply felt cold, chilling his insides. Moody could not shake the feeling that this place felt… _off_.

It was the kind of silence that falls right before you get knifed in the back. It sent a shiver down his spine and he felt his blood chill in his veins.

The wind was just as bitter as the day before, and the day before yesterday, coming straight from the north, but the scent was something else, metallic almost, with a tinge of acrid burning. It stank of burnt flesh.

Moody felt his stomach lurch and bitter, acidic stomach bile rise up from the pit of his churning insides and create a warm feeling in his chest.

He barely stifled a growl of frustration, already knowing he would find nothing.

Their target was a slippery little bastard, as cunning as a Kappa, and for a moment, he wasn't exactly sure why he had come to the scene.

If he himself already _knew_ that he'd find nothing, then why was he _here_? Moody let out a low, guttural growl from the back of his throat and dipped into the pocket of his brown, tattered trench coat for his flask.

It could have been water in his flask, but it bloody well _wasn't_.

Moody uncorked the flagon and swirled it, listening to the chinking of the ice cubes, breathing in the fragrance that only years in an oak barrel could achieve for some of the finest Fire Whiskey known to all of Great Britain.

The Fire Whiskey turned down the raging volume on Moody's thoughts. It brought back to him memories of good times past, a world where Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin had not been falsely arrested and was now imprisoned for a crime that Moody knew Tonks had not committed.

Moody let himself dwell in them rather than think, closing his good eye and tilting the flagon back to his lips, drinking heavily until it was gone.

And in that moment, he was here, and yet he was not, existing in two perfect moments. Somehow, it steadied Moody's frazzled paranoia.

Tonks needed _him_ to be the one to figure out who had done this to her, because her husband, Remus was certainly in no condition to help him.

He _almost_ snorted at that, rolling his one good eye. Anybody who could think his protégé guilty of committing a crime, they were insane.

Perhaps it was because this was where his young protégé, a young woman who, admittedly, he felt had become very much like a surrogate daughter to him, had stood, back pressed against the wall of the cobblestones, before her life had irrevocably changed for good last night.

Moody clenched his teeth, grinding his molars in frustration, and barely stifling his growl of frustration, settled for his temporary release of frustration by giving a curt banging of his walking stick, sending a low wave of thunder through the alley.

It was early enough in the morning no other souls would be out wandering about, and even if they were, a simple Memory Wiping Charm or the Confundus Charm would set them off their path. Alastor sighed, carding his fingers through his grizzled mane of hair.

He still wasn't entirely sure why he had come here. He bloody hated this place, this alleyway. Moody hobbled and limped along the rough cobbled streets that caused his feet within his boots to ache like, well, mad. The buildings were tightly pressed together and loomed over Moody, like a forest of stone.

When he looked up, the roofs were so close together that he could make out only a sliver of the dull grievous skies that was mirrored by the tiny stream of light that trickled to the cold ground. Echo Alley twisted and turned back on itself, first to the right, and then twisting like a snake's body to the left.

From where Moody stood, whether he looked in front or behind using his magical eye, he saw nothing but stone. A deep baritone voice made him jump, and he swore underneath his breath, whirling about on the heel of his boot, walking stick clutched firmly in hand, though he felt the tension in the shoulders leave him when he saw it was only Kingsley.

"This is where Tonks found him tormenting the Muggle girl Remus is in charge of, right?" Kingsley asked, the man asking the question smoothly, the baritone of his voice reverberating through Moody's aching, old bones as Kingsley slid a hand into the interior pocket of his dark blue robes for his wand.

The low rumble of his voice was comforting as it wrapped around Alastor and transported the grizzled aging Auror off to a world where sound was the power that could change everything wrong with the world. It was rumored Kingsley was next in line to take Minister Scrimgeour's place if Rufus ever saw fit to retire from the post.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice seemed to boom across the sky itself. Moody would never dare admit this to anyone, but he could listen to Shacklebolt talk all damned day and never tire of listening to the man talk.

It was a voice to sink in as it wrapped you up. Yet, vibrating with power and command and experience. His was a voice with authority. His voice was deep, whenever he spoke, every head in the room would turn.

He had that rich, silky tone. He spoke as if he controlled the world, his experience seeping through. He would remind you of a stormy day. A rather nice one.

"Yes," Moody answered gruffly. "It is." He repressed a shudder.

_Where Tonks found him_. But it was where the Auror had _lost_ him first. The man had Disapparated, leaving only Tonks and the Muggle girl, Renee Barreau, if that really _was_ her name and she wasn't some _imposter_ , Moody thought darkly, grating his molars even harder in an agitated fit.

Little over six months ago, a young woman barely over the age of nineteen had disappeared whilst walking down Echo Alley late at night, and then a few weeks after her initial disappearance, her remains had been found, dumped unceremoniously in the same location.

_This very spot…_

It had been Moody and Tonks's case, to track down this bastard and put him behind bars in Azkaban Prison, and the events that followed this tragic incident had sent what was left of his career as a veteran Auror into what Mad-Eye Moody could only describe as something of a free-fall.

Alastor was responsible for most of the fieldwork these days, given that Tonks was now a new mother to Edward Remus Lupin, though they called him Teddy after her deceased father, with Tonks staying behind her desk in an administrative roll, processing the necessary paperwork, warrants for arrest, depositions, summons to appear in court, those things.

Not quite as active as her former duties as an Auror were, but equally just as important, though Tonks had been more than happy to make the switch now that she had a husband and son counting on her to stay safe.

And _now_ bloody look what had happened to her! The Morning Killer had somehow managed to get one over on Nymphadora, and she was left to rot in a dank prison cell in Azkaban unless he could convince the Warden to view both Tonks's and the blonde Muggle lass's memories of what happened here last night, and if they corroborated and were in sync, it ought to be enough, he hoped, to convince the Senior Undersecretary and the Ministry to put Tonks on a form of house arrest until her pending charges could be cleared as well as her name.

At least, that was the plan…

Moody let out a growl of frustration and swiveled his eye this way and that, though he was finding bloody damned well nothing, and he did not bother telling Kingsley to stop with the Revelio Charm the man cast.

If it would help set Shacklebolt's mind at ease, then let him do it.

"Constant Vigilance, Shacklebolt," he barked by way of response as he heard Kingsley heave a sigh of frustration when the incantation came up empty, as Moody already knew that it would. _Dispassionate. Practical_.

This was how he was forced to behave when on the job and in the field. He froze in his tracks as he had taken a hobbling half-step forward and kicked aside a piece of trash with the edge of his scuffed brown boot.

He thought of the advice he had given Remus's wife when she had been undergoing the rigorous training program to become an Auror like he was.

Whenever you saw something awful, you had to keep it locked away in a box, no matter what it was. The box is something you keep locked in your head, in the darkest corners of the recesses of your mind, and you only ever open this imaginary box to throw something else inside of it.

The actual work, the sights, sounds, smells, that the job entailed and brought with it, you had to keep it separate from your personal life at all costs. It was a simple piece of advice, really, neat, but not easy to follow.

There had been no one that had been prouder than Alastor the day Tonks had graduated from the Auror Training Program, passing with flying colors, though thanks to her innate clumsiness, almost failing Stealth and Tracking, though she managed to pull through, like always.

While he could not believe this had happened to Tonks, there was a small part of him that was grateful the young witch was not around to see how he had dealt with her arrest.

He was sure, yes, he was _sure_ , that Kingsley had pulled a face and could smell the whiskey spirits on his breath, though Shacklebolt knew better than to comment on his drinking.

Mad-Eye Moody squeezed his one remaining eye shut, thinking that Tonks would be ashamed to learn that the box of horrors tucked away inside his head simply would not stay the bloody hell closed.

But Merlin's Beard, what he wouldn't give for it to _stay_ shut. The nightmares he had. _All your fault_ , the snakelike voice taunted him at the back of his mind, knowing that he should have been right at Tonks's side last night, and he wasn't. The voice sounded entirely too much like Snape's voice for his comfort, and Moody hated it, though he did not know how to make it stop.

Today, like he always wondered whenever he was out in the field like this on the job, he wondered how disappointed in him Tonks would be.

Moody stifled his sigh of disappointment as his magical eye swiveled to the right and cautiously looked towards Kingsley out of the corner of its line of sight.

Before the dead girl had turned up in Echo Alley six months ago, followed by a series of murders, all of them in a similar fashion, and all the bodies recovered here, right back where they had been snatched off the streets, Alastor had imagined himself in retirement.

A well-earned rest, and letting Tonks take over the grunt work as she steadily rose within the ranks, satisfied in knowing that Tonks had kept her own Box of Dark Thoughts, as he liked to call it, shut and locked up.

But it turned out he hadn't known himself at all, because if he had, he would have been the first one on the scene following Tonks's arrest last night, and he bloody hadn't been. Kingsley had been the one to take her.

Kingsley gave a curt nod, signaling he noticed Mad-Eye's eye, well, eyeing him, and shifted at the waist slightly as he pocketed his wand.

"They ought to seal this place up. Tear it down if they could." 'They', of course, being the Muggles, though Moody knew the Muggle Prime Minister wouldn't. Echo Alley was a low priority on that man's long list.

When Moody spoke, his voice was gruff, coarse, and rather hoarse, and he knew it was a side effect from the Fire Whiskey he had just chugged.

"It's not this _place_ that causes these murders and does bad things, Shacklebolt. It's our guy. The Morning Killer. Besides, you ought to know better than most, Mr. Shacklebolt, if this creep didn't do it here, he would just pick some other place, a safe house, and the Auror Office would still be responsible for his capture, making sure he can't hurt anybody else," he spat, spitting the man's chosen alias as though it were a bitter poison on his tongue. A dumb name, he thought, but Moody could not manage to pretend to care.

What he _did_ care about was Nymphadora.

_Have to get you out, Tonks. No matter what. I'm gonna set you free_ , he thought, grinding his teeth in anger and annoyance at his actions last night.

Or rather, his _lack_ of actions. If he had only gotten word sooner that Tonks was in trouble, he could have saved her, stopped Umbridge from sending her to Azkaban on a trumped-up charge full of malicious intent.

"Maybe." Kingsley didn't sound too terribly convinced by Moody's words, but nor did it really sound like he cared, as they reached the end. "Watch your step here, Alastor," Shacklebolt cautioned as he stepped over the very same discarded trash can lid that it was rumored the blonde lass, that Muggle, had been forced to step into by Tonks after she enchanted it into a Portkey.

_Quick thinking on Nymphadora's part_ , he thought, impressed with her ability to handle herself under pressure last night as she had been, though there wasn't much about his young protégé that did not impress him now.

"You watch yours!" Moody barked by way of retort, locking his jaw, and feeling his facial muscles tense up, thinking this damned Echo Alley's walkway seemed to stretch on for an eternity, its own sort of labyrinth.

Earlier this morning, about an hour or so, Moody had received a Patronus in the middle of the bloody morning from Auror Runcorn, saying he needed to come as soon as he was able. They had taken into custody Tonks, arresting her on charges of the murder of a young Muggle girl.

Though not even fifteen minutes ago, Kingsley had sent him another message, telling him to come, saying that two teenagers, Muggles, had been taken into their own law enforcement's custody outside the alley.

One of them, Eli Vandherhilt, had been practically in tears and borderline bloody hysterical, and the other, Rob Hendrickson, calm, stoic.

They had found another body, less than an hour after Tonks had already been arrested and escorted back to the Ministry for interrogating.

Moody growled, silently seething as his magical eye swiveled to the left and right, peering through the buildings, searching for any sign that he and Kingsley were being followed as he allowed Kingsley to lead him down the dark cobblestone path of Echo Alley.

_Where Tonks saw him_.

He wondered if he and Kingsley would even find anything, if those punk kids had been telling the truth. Runcorn stated that they were, and considering the two Muggle boys had witnessed no acts of magic that they had been able to discern from their descriptions of the body they had found or the appearance in the alleyway of any suspicions persons (other than how the poor dead soul wound up sprawled lifeless in Echo Alley) they had not bothered with wiping their memories with a Memory Charm.

_If they were telling the truth to Runcorn and Rosier_ , he thought gruffly to himself, _it would prove to all of us Nymphadora's innocence_.

Not that he doubted his protégé for an instant, but those within their own department and their Senior Undersecretary remained unconvinced, given the suspicious circumstances under which Runcorn had found Tonks.

The Ministry would likely agree to contain Nymphadora under some form of house arrest, proving Remus and Dumbledore were successful in convincing the young Muggle girl, Barreau, Moody thought her name was, if his memory served him correctly from what he could recall from Kingsley's message, to go along with allowing them to extract the memory of last night from her mind, and presenting both her memory and Tonks's to the Warden of Azkaban Prison and the Minister himself, in order to secure Tonks's release and send her home with her family where she rightfully belonged.

Moody let out a noncommittal noise that sounded like a grunt as he hobbled forward and stopped dead in his tracks, almost succeeding in barreling poor Kingsley Shacklebolt over, who was in the midst of staring down at the ground in front of him. What he'd come for.

"Merlin's left…" Moody swore, his voice trailing off, as his free hand not clutching onto his walking stick clawed at his side, his lungs heaving for breath, and his shoulders shaking, feeling like he was breathing a little bit faster than was his usual custom, although it was not exactly clear if that was from the physical exertion of hobbling all the way down this dank alleyway or the horrific sight that lay before him and Kingsley just now.

The clearing ahead of them, the cobblestones beneath their boots had been pained with some kind of thick red paint, the sign of the Deathly Hallows, Mad-Eye Moody was able to recognize the symbol immediately.

There was something almost occult about this crime scene, and Alastor was quick to decide he did not like it, a first impression that was enhanced by the small tableau laid in the center, the body in full display for him to see.

_Merlin's left testicle_ , Alastor thought. _He WANTED me to find it_.

The Morning Killer had left another calling card. Another victim. The body was that of a young boy, about fifteen feet away, directly in the center of the table.

The lad had been posed in a kneeling position, bent over so that he was almost praying to his Muggle God, dressed in jeans and a ratty old t-shirt that had ridden up his chest and to his armpits, but the dried, caked blood made it difficult to tell what color the t-shirt was.

_Permanently red now_ , Moody thought, a little bit sad, as his magical eye and his good eye remained fixated on the corpse as it moved quickly over the body, wanting the details of how their murderer had killed this lad, but not wanting to look at the corpse any more than he already had.

This boy had been someone's son, someone's brother or cousin, surely. He had a family, a home, a pet, perhaps, and now…none of it mattered.

There were numerous stab wounds from the looks of it, dark stab wounds on the boy's torso, the blood around now mere pale brown smears.

The grotesqueness of the crime scene made Moody shudder, and he was not a man who displayed his emotions on his sleeve like this at all.

_He's going to get what he deserves, Tonks_ , Moody swore, promising his partner here and now he would do whatever it took to get her out.

A deeper pool of crimson red-stained beneath the young boy's head, which was tilted awkwardly to the left, his profile facing away from Mad-Eye.

_This was a dispassionate crime. Aloof. Our guy doesn't bloody care_.

For a moment, it felt like the entire country of Great Britain came to a standstill, and then Moody's magical eye drifted towards something else.

"What the hell is that on the ground?" he barked, jolting Kinglsey out of whatever swirling dark thoughts were going on in his coworker's mind, pointing towards the ground with a curt jerk of his wooden walking stick.

Kingsley Shacklebolt shot Alastor Moody a truly withering glance. "It's a boy's _body_ , Alastor. Surely, your magical eye could tell you that?" he growled, kneeling into a crouch below the body to examine it.

"Don't touch him!" Moody growled, pointed ignoring Shacklebolt's snarky comment and lumbering forward, leaning heavily on his stick for support, taking a couple of careful steps forward, anxious not to disturb the crime scene until he and Kingsley could take care of the body in a second, though first, they would have to determine the identity of the boy.

But still, he knew he needed to make sense of what he was seeing and ensure that it wasn't his magical eye acting up again or playing some horrible trick on him.

There was more blood on the cobblestone street beneath his boots, stretching out in a circle at all angles of the boy's body.

Something white was sticking out near the bottom of the kid's sneaker. Grunting with the effort, Moody prodded gently at the boy's shoe, trying to be as cautious as he could to not disturb the crime scene _too_ much, but wanting to know what that was that the murderer had left on the ground.

_A calling card_? He wondered, giving a curt rap of his walking stick, and almost instantaneously, the blood-soaked plastic card floated in mid-air, until Moody carefully reached out with his thumb and forefinger and plucked it from the air. The kid's school ID, but too faded to make out.

Too faded, and now permanently stained crimson, besides. Completely drenched in the kid's blood, that precious life force, now stained brown.

The pattern of blood on the ground seemed too uniform to Alastor to be considered accidental, and he knew The Morning Killer had done this.

Moody furrowed his scarred brows into a scowl as he continued to keep his eyes fixated on the ground beneath where the body had been placed.

It was only when Alastor reached the edge of the bloodstains that he realized just what in the seven hells they actually were, and he recoiled.

"What?" Kingsley demanded, noticing the sudden shift in his partner's behavior. "What did you find, Alastor?" he murmured, coming over to stand behind Moody and peer over the older grizzled Auror's shoulder.

It seemed to take Alastor ages to find his voice, and when he did manage to speak to Kingsley, his voice was gruffer, coarser than before.

"We got us one sick puppy, Shacklebolt," he barked. "Contact anyone you can at the Ministry. Get me Dumbledore and tell the man _and_ Remus to meet me at Azkaban Prison straight away and bring the Muggle girl."

Alastor heard Shacklebolt ask again what it was that he saw, and he did not immediately reply, but that was because he did not know-how.

He heard Kingsley let out an audible gasp and a murmured exclamation of a curse even Moody dared not repeat out loud and heard him immediately wave his wand and conjure a Patronus to send a message.

_We're getting you out of here, Tonks. And soon_ , he promised, gritting his teeth in anger as his magical eye and his good eye remained fixed on the gruesome sight before him.

He could tell Kingsley was just as disturbed as he was, and he knew that their killer was still after Tonks.

Moody's magical eye counted not one, but _seven_ locks of Tonks's all-too-familiar dark maroon wavy tresses, and counted the red stains as best he could, but it was hard to keep track of them all on the stones like this.

Several dozens of bloodied handprints were pressed against the stone.

"What's your verdict, Alastor? I've not yet heard back from Dumbledore," Kingsley murmured after a moment spent in a heavy silence. "What should I tell him?" he demanded; his baritone voice quiet.

Moody's magical eye swiveled to the left to regard his partner on the force.

"Tell it to the man straight, Shacklebolt. Tonks did _not_ do this. I don't know the Morning Killer's name, but we're gonna _nab_ this bastard, and _soon_. We have a killer on the loose after her, and I don't think he's done."

Without so much as a word, he knelt to the ground and plucked a single thread of Tonks's hair off the ground, nestling it into the pocket of his brown trench coat, and turned on the heel of his boot and Disapparated.


	18. Chapter 18

Tonks's poor nails were already bitten down to the quick. She nibbled at their frayed, formed edges like a famished mouth, hardly paying attention to a word her cellmate Cate said while she was escorted to the visitors' lobby to see Remus in forty-minute minutes.

A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of her right eye, her mouth forming a rigid grimace.

With her arms folded tightly across her chest, she tapped her foot furiously as her cellmate took one look at her pale and peaky face and guided her towards one of the spare chairs in the lobby.

"Sit down before you keel over and pass the hell out before your husband gets here," Cate murmured, glancing around for a prison guard, and not seeing one, furrowing her brows in a frown. "It's just nerves, you know. You'll be fine. I'll go see if I can get you a cold drink."

Tonks nodded, though something in her cellmate's tone gave her pause, and before Cate Greengrass could turn on her heel and leave her alone here in this strange, unfamiliar room to wait for her husband by herself, Tonks half-rose from her chair and shot out an arm to catch her.

Cate halted her movements, slowly turning around at the waist to regard the slightly older witch, blinking owlishly at Tonks in utter shock.

"What?" she asked, her frown deepening as Tonks sat back down, suddenly feeling sheepish. "You sick or something? What's the matter?"

Tonks waited, biting the inside wall of her cheek as she struggled how best to phrase exactly the question that was on her mind and at the tip of her tongue, just begging for her cellmate to give her an honest answer.

She emanated a tense exhale and slowly lifted her gaze to Cate's.

"Why are you being so nice to me? By rights, you _shouldn't_. I'm an _Auror_ , Cate. Over half the other prisoners in here are ones I've had some kind of hand in arresting. Most of these people know my face. What if…" she paused, her voice trailing off. "What if I really _was_ guilty, then, Cate?"

Tonks shook her head and forced a nervous smile, allowing a skittish chuckle to escape her lips as she watched her cellmate toy with a lock of wavy brown hair, seemingly startled by her cellmate's question.

She was grateful that Cate Greengrass was being welcoming, and she wanted at least one other person in this prison besides the Warden to be nice to her, but not in a frightening way.

She'd had more than her fill of frightening experiences last night in Echo Alley, and then again, this morning when she'd been on the receiving end of the Morning Killer's unexpected surprise visit into her and Cate's cell when Cate was absent.

Cate seemed extremely eager to talk to her and had barely been able to shut up at breakfast, which had been little more than some canned applesauce, two pieces of burnt toast with grape and strawberry jam spread, and two scrambled eggs on each plate with a glass of orange juice.

Not that Tonks had minded. She had welcomed the distraction while she forced down the food, though her mind was so scattered and unfocused, thinking about seeing Remus and Teddy today, that she had hardly been able to keep up with whatever Greengrass prattled on about.

Tonks blinked as her cellmate finally seemed to find her voice. "I _know_ who you are," Cate chirped, shrugging her shoulders in a nonchalant way. "I got a second cousin in here with us, two twice removed or something that you arrested a few months back for selling illegal items in Knockturn Alley. It was your buddy Shacklebolt that arrested me for my bogus potions," Cate sighed, nervously toying with a lock of her hair.

Tonks winced, visibly shirking back into her chair as much as the chair would allow her to, hoping her nervousness wasn't displayed on her face.

"So, why then, are you going out of your way to help me adjust here? What if I really _was_ the Morning Killer, Cate? You'd still be nice to me?" Tonks challenged hotly, not really sure where this was coming from, but what she did know was though she was a day into knowing her cellmate and already wanting to know the truth, though Tonks was glad Cate seemed willing to make an effort to _try_ to be friends, or at least be cordial.

She was surprised when Cate made an odd little strangled noise at the back of her throat and rolled her eyes in jest at her cellmate's quip.

"Everybody except for _you_ isn't in here because they were doing things _right_. We all messed up, _hard_ , or else we wouldn't be in this place. I got a month left before I'm finally released, and I don't intend to waste my second chance. I think I might try to get a decent job. Maybe in Diagon Alley or something. Maybe the Ministry, if the Warden could put in a good enough word, once Everett thinks I'm 'reformed' enough," Cate sighed. "And as for you being the Morning Killer? Don't make me _laugh_. You're _not_ him," Cate murmured darkly, pursing her lips into a thin line as she raised her dark eyebrows in alarm at Tonks. "I _know_ that. I'm not stupid, Tonks. His murders are all _over The Daily Prophet_ , and besides, you _couldn't_ be him, because I heard the cooks in line at breakfast talking about this morning's edition of the paper. They found another body seven hours after you were already in here with me, so it _can't_ be you. Not unless you have a Time-Turner and can be in two places at once. _Trust_ me. I've been in here a few months and I know this guy's m.o. The way he positions his victims suggests a sexual interest in the women and people he takes, not that a witch couldn't, but it's just not the kind of crime women tend to favor, you know? And more to the point, besides, the few eyewitnesses that claim to have seen the guy's shadow around downtown London at night, it's _clearly_ a _guy_. They found a size eleven boot print at the last crime scene and judging by your feet, you're an eight. Eight and a half, at best. And as for why I'm helping you?"

Cate sighed and pinched at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Cate felt her expression change only just slightly. She straightened her back and folded her hands behind her back as she regarded her new cellmate, thinking Tonks almost looked embarrassed.

Merlin only knew why. Cate frowned, puzzled by the shift in the older witch's countenance.

The Auror had no reason to be nervous around her. She wasn't going to _do_ anything to her, not when provoking her or starting something would cause her sentence to become extended, she'd have to be pretty stupid to jeopardize her near-freedom in another month.

Well, of course, the witch would ask her that, what else was Cate thinking Tonks would say?

To be quite honest with herself, she was not sure why she was practically bending over backward to help Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin adjust to life in Azkaban Prison, whether she was here for two days, two weeks, or a year.

Cate could tell when the Warden had introduced the two of them last night that this young woman was innocent.

The Morning Killer had framed her somehow, some way, and Cate couldn't prove it, of course, but at the very least, she could be nice to her. Why was she being so nice to Tonks? Was it to ask her questions?

_No_. Cate gave her head a curt little shake to try to clear her mind.

That was the _last_ bloody thing the witch and Auror needed right now when she was focused on getting back home to her husband and brand new baby.

She pondered this question for a moment. Maybe…maybe Cate was here to help Tonks in some way, and that was why the Warden had chosen to put Tonks in the same cell with her, though in what way, she didn't know how she could possibly help the witch get out of here, innocence notwithstanding.

They didn't have their wands.

All she knew was she was tired of the way people here talked about Mrs. Lupin, as if she were some kind of accursed wretch for being the first known human to date, marry, and have a brand new baby with a fully-fledged werewolf.

Cate blinked and forced her attention back to Tonks. Perhaps it was that reason that caused her to answer her new cellmate honestly.

"It's been a _long_ time since I had a roommate, especially another witch close to my own age. It gets lonely in this place enough as it is with just the guards and Dementors around," she growled, letting a shudder journey down her back at the thought of those wretched creatures. "Let's hope you don't run into one. We're _screwed_ if we do since we don't have our wands, though the guards do a decent job of keeping those foul creatures at bay. At least…they're _supposed_ to," Cate sighed. "But, uh, that's not the point. Back to your question. Why am I helping you? I guess…maybe I'm just really looking for a friend," Cate confessed, her voice hushed, though a tiny smile crept onto her features.

Tonks stared, her lips parted open in shock, to which Cate merely smirked at her cellmate and offered another shrug of her shoulders as she tossed her mane of dark hair over her shoulder and out of her face.

She was aware she was looking shellshocked, but less so than she had initially expected she would be. She had not anticipated _that_ would be her answer.

"I'm a good observer. Got a keen eye for this kind of thing. I _know_ when someone's trying to screw me over, and I know quite a few of our fellow inmates. You stay here long enough; you start to pick up on the signs. What to look for. Body language, eye contact, you can tell if someone's lying because they look to the right, that kind of thing. Plus, Everett says it's only a matter of time before your guys in the Auror Office catch him." Cate crinkled her nose in slight disgust. "When's your appointment?"

"Six-thirty," Tonks answered, feeling a churning feeling begin in the pit of her stomach.

This was the second time her new counselor, Everett, had been brought up in front of her, and the third or fourth time Cate had given her this look of utter revulsion whenever the counselor's name was mentioned.

_He must really be something else_ , Tonks thought wildly.

Cate clucked her tongue in disappointment. "You don't _want_ to meet him." Cate furrowed her dark eyebrows in a frown. "He's a pervert."

Tonks swallowed down hard past the growing lump in her throat and nervously glanced at the clock on the wall.

Thirty more minutes to wait.

_And then I'll see Remus and Teddy again_ , she thought nervously.

"Oh." She stammered, feeling her nails dig into the skin of her palms, not sure what else to say, feeling a stab of a fear prick at her heartstrings.

_Just great. He's a pig_ , _then_.

"Well, I—my husband is supposed to be coming with the Hogwarts Headmaster today to hopefully get me out."

Cate nodded, and Tonks couldn't be certain for sure, but she swore she saw the briefest flickers of jealousy flit through the woman's light green eyes.

Though as quickly as the emotion had darted through her cellmate's orbs, the look was gone, and Cate plastered a smile on her face. Though they both knew it was fake.

It didn't reach her eyes. Cate heaved a reluctant sigh and Tonks watched as her shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

"You're _lucky_ if that's the case. You don't want to be in his office any longer than you _have_ to, Mrs. Lupin. Trust me on that one, if nothing else. There are…rumors among the other witches in this place he raped a young girl last year." She fixed Tonks with a pointed stare. "One of your distant relatives. I can't remember her name. Lestrange. I think she was around our age. Rena or Renata. Started with an R, but I wasn't here then, so I don't know the full details. A rumor's just a rumor, and nobody could prove it, and like it or not, Everett's one of the best counselors the Warden has on staff, so he's well-protected in this shithole of a place."

Tonks nodded mutely, her face a mask of calm, though it did not stop the feeling of pure terror surging through her veins, icy daggers straight to her heart.

The fear she felt this morning staring into the narrowed, listless green eyes of the Morning Killer was nothing to what she felt now.

This…was almost _worse_.

As despicable of a man as her new counselor sounded, the fact that he was protected by the system was abhorrent, and Tonks already knew that without physical and viable evidence, nothing would come of those claims, if what Cate said was true.

"Good to know," Tonks managed to croak out in a nervous laugh, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded as her throat constricted. She turned her head to the side and covered her mouth to let out a cough.

"Damn," Cate swore through gritted teeth, bringing her palm to her forehead and smacking her head with her hand. "Water. I was going to go grab you a drink."

She turned on the heel of her shoe, though not before she paused in the doorway, a hand on the knob to steady herself, risking one last glance over her shoulder at her cellmate.

"I'll be back. I'll go grab you that drink. Your counselor is kind of a creep, I'm not going to lie to you, Tonks, but if he says or does anything inappropriate, tell someone. Tell _me_ ," she urged, a muscle in her jaw twitching and behind her eyelid.

"Okay," Tonks quietly agreed, hoping Cate was just exaggerating and repeating whatever gossip circulated through this rumor mill of a prison.

She had not yet met Everett, but so far, the way her cellmate talked about the man made her want to avoid her appointment at all costs.

"I don't think he'll try anything with you. Something tells me you're smart enough you won't fall for his charms. You're an Auror, after all. Something tells me even _without_ your wand, you can handle yourself. But if he does, tell _me_ , and we'll go tell the Warden. _Together_ ," Cate growled.

Tonks nodded, feeling at a loss for words as to what to say, so for lack of a better phrase, she simply copied her new cellmate and friend's sentence, offering the younger witch a polite smile as she waved.

"Together." Tonks watched as Cate Greengrass promptly turned her back on her and turned on the heel of her shoe down the hallway, leaving her alone in the eerie silence of the visitors' lobby by herself.

Memories, Tonks knew as she sat waiting in her chair with bated breath, trying not to shiver through gritted teeth as she waited for Remus to walk through the open doorway and to see her for the first time since her false imprisonment, were often invoked by a fragrance.

For her, it was the scent of pinewood, which she swore she could smell coming closer. They said that the strongest link to sparking a memory was through one of the six senses—not sight, taste, or touch, not even sound—but smell.

Her brows furrowed. The scent was coming back, stronger this time, and Tonks closed her eyes and gently inhaled. Yes.

There it was. It was _real_ , all right.

The young woman didn't know how she came to have such a strong sense of smell growing up, but it only occurred on people's scents.

She knew Moody's scent, he smelled like his flagon of Fire Whiskey. She knew her father's scent. Rigid like old pine. Dumbledore smelled of parchment paper.

And her husband had always smelled of the forest. To her, Lupin smelled like autumn, like fresh almonds, acorns. Remus brought her back to climbing old elm trees as a little girl in the park her parents would take her to, he smelled of pine wood. He smelled like dawn.

_Remus_? Tonks thought, feeling her nostrils flare and her ears perk up at the sound of approaching footsteps, unable to quell the sudden warm feeling rising within the confines of her chest.

Her husband always smelled of the forest, and Tonks was forced back to recall those early days of their partnership, a few days after she had found him on his knees and had come to the conclusion on her own that her new partner and her now-husband was a fully-fledged werewolf and had been on the brink of death that night.

Her brows furrowed into a frown as she closed her eyes, thinking of how in the early days of their partnership with one another, Remus had that shy look that quiet, reserved men often wore, melancholy and morose.

Always behind those slightly pursed lips was a smile just waiting to be tempted out, that Tonks had somehow managed to coax from Remus.

Sometimes, Lupin would look her way and she would generally pretend not to notice. Too much interest in her new partner who was a man almost ten years her senior and Tonks thought he would have run.

But whenever she did return Remus's glances, she found she didn't have to try to smile, it just came to her naturally over those long weeks.

That night after she had found him in a state of semi-consciousness and had guided him back to his bed, Tonks decided to take a chance on Remus and had started to learn how to trust her new partner for the better.

That fateful night was the night Tonks saw something flicker in those light brown orbs of Remus Lupin's that she never wanted to die.

* * *

_Lupin's hands clutched at the walls of his bedroom in Grimmauld Place, trying to maintain his equilibrium, which was a futile effort._

_Merlin's Beard, he had spent the last five minutes just trying to stay on his own two feet, when he seemed incapable of being able to walk around much at all._

_His broken, bruised, bitten, and scratched body was starting to reach a point of exhaustion where he just couldn't do it anymore. His body could not continue to handle dealing with this torture for three nights every month._

_He wanted nothing more than to break down and weep at the fact that no intellectual genius like Dumbledore had managed to find a cure for lycanthropy at all._

_If there were, he would have been the first one in line. Remus struggled to focus his blurred, hazy vision more than a few feet in front of himself, dazed and in pain as his battered body was._

_A soft whimper of pain escaped him as his legs faltered and he fell against the wall, having no choice but to use it as a support brace and lean heavily against it while he tried to regulate his labored, raspy breathing back to normal._

_Remus walked back to his bed like his limbs no longer belonged to him and each step was a negotiation rather than an order. Everything hurt._

_Lupin felt his eyes squeeze shut as his scarred face twisted and contorted into a pained grimace. Never before had he experienced such intense pain in his entire life._

_As he collapsed onto the bed, Remus could feel his head spinning ultimately as he let himself lay back on the mattress._

_His jaw clenched as he tugged on a lock of his hair in fistfuls, pulling on it so hard the roots screamed in protest, but it helped to ease the pains. The door to his bedroom opened, making him jump._

_His monthly nightmare had ended last night on the third night of this month's full moon cycle, and Remus had somehow managed to remain in one piece._

_And yet, he didn't feel whole._

_Everything felt battered, bruised. He could feel a figure coming closer, and he drew in a sharp breath that pained his lungs as the young woman knelt at his bedside, a lock of red hair tumbling in front of her face, though she brushed it aside with one fell swoop of her thumb. Lily._

_Lovely Lily. He felt his cracked, bleeding lips part, struggling to say even the first syllable of her name, though she raised a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him._

_"Shh." Her voice was succulent and soft. "Don't try to speak, Remus. You're hurt. You need to lie back and rest."_

_Lupin felt his blurry vision slowly fade away as black spots appeared at the edges of his wolfish line of sight, and everything was still tinted yellow as his irises reverted from their green hue when the Wolf came out, to his normal color, his father's inherited light brown eyes._

_"What…" He gazed at Lily briefly before allowing the young redhead to gently push him back onto the mattress, and he almost snapped at his old friend before some initial semblance of cohesive thought and reasoning returned. "Why…are you…doing this…?" he managed to gasp out hoarsely._

_She merely proceeded to look at Remus in silence for a moment, rubbing her blood-stained fingers together as she poked and prodded at a wound near his collarbones with the delicate pad of her fingertips._

_Remus swallowed down hard past the growing lump in his throat, trying to put on some form of the mask of gratitude, to silently convey his thanks to his friend._

_"Lily. Look at me. Please."_

_He was begging with her now, pleading with his old friend to look. She startled as her name tumbled unchecked from his lips, and she froze, her movements stilled as she carried a small wooden bowl with medical supplies underneath one arm, and a heavily laden breakfast tray, complete with eggs, bacon, toast with jam, an English muffin, and a scone, no doubt prepared by Molly, in the other hand, which she set down quickly on his small night table next to his bed and sat down._

_Lily's inquisitive eyes went down her arm, stopping at the outline of Remus's wand tucked underneath his overly large and tattered t-shirt._

_"You won't be needing that, Remus." Remus watched as Lily reached out her hand expectantly, and with an unfounded sense of trepidation and reluctance, he handed his wand over, for a fleeting moment, wishing he could jinx her with it, just to see if she was really here, that this was not another phantasm of his mind playing a sport._

_Lily took his wand and set it aside the breakfast tray in his night table._

_Lupin opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get another word in edgewise, his eyesight started to blur again, but not because tears were welling up, though they were._

_"I…miss you," he whispered softly. "And James."_

_Everything became fuzzy as Remus struggled to keep his eyes open, and then he saw nothing at all. His consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a horrible kind of static._

_Throughout this inky space, his heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in his ringing eardrums, alongside fading pleas for help. And then the feeling in his body drained. Lupin heard Lily say something to him, though she sounded faint, far away, and muffled, as if underwater._

_He allowed herself to succumb to sleep._

_All went black._

* * *

_The situation did not look good at all. Tonks hadn't intended to open the door to her partner's bedroom and to find him so utterly exhausted, much less attempting to get out of his bed when it was much too soon, and since he had passed out again, he hadn't moved an inch._

_He'd called her Lily._

_Tonks furrowed her brows in a frown and glanced at her reflection in a little mirror that hung on the opposite wall._

_Just because she'd chosen to wear her hair a rich dark auburn red color this afternoon didn't mean that she was shooting to resemble his friend, who had been dead now for years, far from it._

_The man was not exactly a pretty sight, she thought, biting the wall of her cheek as her tongue ran along the top wall of her teeth as she raised her wand and lit the candle on the man's bedside to provide what warmth and light it can._

_Remus John Lupin's scars were not at all a pretty sight, the ones that marred his face were an eyesore, and Tonks hated thinking along these lines, though there was no denying the truth._

_She perched herself on the edge of his bed and reached over and placed a gentle hand on his forehead. Still feverish._

_Waves of heat seemed to course through the man's bloodstream, as a cold sweat glistened on his gaunt, peaky features._

_His eyes sunken in and his skin sallow, it looked as though everything ached, and his body lacked the strength._

_Maybe that's why he passed out, Tonks thought with furrowed eyebrows. Even under the light cotton sheet, Lupin was radiating heat like a brick right out of the oven._

_Fires burn, fevers consume. Tonks saw Lupin being eaten from within by the virus that intends to cook him, scorching his usually pale skin so red._

_Tonks decided she had never seen her new partner so lacking in life spirit and the fear of losing him on her watch bit down hard. Tonks moved to hold Lupin's still fingers only to drop them in fright, shocked by his inner furnace._

_Her sharp gray eyes drifted over the three diagonal lines on his face that gave the features of Remus John Lupin's face a twisted, somewhat grotesque appearance as the thick, jagged red and pink lines were truly shocking against such pale skin, the ending lines of the three scars tugging his lip slightly downward in that permanent-looking scowl of his, hardening what otherwise should have been, in Tonks's mind, handsome features. Tonks let out a sigh._

_Tonks allowed the pad of her thumb to just barely graze itself over the narrow bands of pinks and reds that were the scars on her new partner's face._

_They smoothed over the streak, and Tonks drew in a pained breath. She fought the nervous swirls that braided in her weak stomach, trying to look at something alternate, something that had no recollection or knowledge of how such horrific-looking scars came to be birthed onto and mar this man's poor face._

_But she couldn't. Tonks couldn't undo the images that were now permanently embedded thickly in her troubled mind._

_Remus is…a werewolf._

_Yet, despite this newfound revelation that her partner suffered from uncurable lycanthropy, and given his now apparent crippled physical state, there was no doubt in Tonks's mind that Remus John Lupin was a strong man, possessing a great physical strength that she knew stemmed from the Wolf._

_Even underneath his t-shirt, the man seemed to be made purely of muscle. Just last night, she'd had one hell of a time escorting him back to bed on her own._

_Perhaps it was for the best, Tonks thought, that he passed out shortly after she had arrived with the breakfast tray and medicines to help aid his recovery._

_She did not want to have to keep pretending to be Lily Potter while he was awake and in a half-lucid state, and as it so happened, this strange interlude of peace and quiet allowed Tonks to get perhaps what was her first truly good look at Remus John Lupin up close, considering when the man was awake, he preferred to keep Tonks at a safe distance, more than an arm's length away, and this moment of solitude, while he slept through the worst of his fever, was an opportunity for Tonks to get used to his unusual appearance and Lupin's scars._

_If he had woken up earlier and had managed to find it within himself to recognize her, Remus surely would have noticed Tonks's initial apprehension to come and check on the man given the way he had treated her last night when she had found him, how he had adamantly refused the offer of her help._

_And that, Tonks knew, was the last thing that Lupin needed right now. Besides, now that she was here sitting perched at the edge of his bed like this, her new partner's initial appearance was not nearly as shocking as she had found him when she first laid eyes on him that night he'd stopped her fall outside._

_True, Remus Lupin wasn't that much to look at, but he possessed the same characteristics as anyone else in her life._

_Two legs, two arms, all his digits in the right places. The young man and werewolf was simply different, to put it rather politely, and different, as her parents had taken great care to teach Tonks growing up, did not necessarily make a person bad. It made them unique._

_And his eyes. Oh, Merlin's Beard, Remus had the most unusually striking pair of light brown eyes she had ever seen in a wizard before._

_Lupin's eyes were perhaps the most redeeming physical quality, aside from his thick tuft of light brown hair flecked with bits of premature gray sprinkled throughout._

_Her partner's eyes were bewitching._

_It was as if their roasted-coffee-bean rim had diffused into a cream-hued iris—mixing until it was the color of sun-dried beech wood, and Tonks could not seem to be able to get enough of his eyes._

_And so horribly haunted. Tonks, try as hard as she might, could not seem to shake the memory of how he had looked at her only moments ago when she had called him Lily._

_An inexplicable warm feeling began to spread throughout her chest and limbs as envy coursed through her veins, envy, and insecurity._

_The fire in Tonks swelled as she remembered how there was unshed glistening moisture in the man's brilliant brown orbs had been, and Tonks froze, pondering to herself why it was that she had not bothered to correct Remus._

_Why hadn't she? She hadn't bothered to tell him that no, she wasn't Lily and that Harry Potter's mother, his friend, was dead._

_She had played along with it instead, which was, in all honesty, the last thing she had expected she'd do._

_Tonks almost laughed in disbelief, a bitter laugh to herself though she halted the noise that formed in her throat, clamping a hand over her mouth, and biting down on her knuckles to still the noise._

_Tonks knew if she laughed here and now, it would wake up Remus. Nevertheless, the young Auror was starting to worry over her partner's welfare._

_It had been well past noon by the time Tonks had the idea to go up and check on him after staying awake with him almost all night last night._

_He had been unconscious for hours, and she could tell her was dehydrated and malnourished. If he did not wake up soon, there was a possibility that Lupin could be in danger._

_You poor man, Tonks thought as she contemplated over his scarred and slightly disfigured face._

_She had so many burning questions for Remus churning in her mind that caused her stomach to give a painful lurch._

_What unimaginable hell had he suffered through his life? Who had been the werewolf who turned him? How old had he been? And why was he seeing Lily? Who are you, Remus John Lupin? Tonks silently asked him. Tell me._

_Her partner willed the man to wake of his own volition and open those riveting eyes again so she could look into him and see those untold stories._

_Who are you?_


	19. Chapter 19

Renee let out a haggard sigh through her flaring nostrils, sitting in the armchair as unstirred as a statue and staring into the depths of the roaring fire in the hearth as though she could not see anything else.

The tongues of those bright red and orange flames danced in a myriad of different hues and a log would pop and crackle on occasion, causing the wood to sink further into the metal bracket. She was briefly tempted to test if the fireplace was at all magic.

If she could just…step into the flames and call out her flat's address so that the bloody fireplace of all places could whisk her back home to her kid brother and their cat and she could pretend as none of this had ever bloody happened.

She bit the wall of her cheek and was briefly entertaining the idea of sticking her foot in the metal grate when she came to terms with what she was about to do was utterly _ridiculous_ , and the _only_ thing she'd succeed in doing is giving herself third-degree burns.

Her forehead fell against her knees, despair, and hopelessness tugging at the strings of her heart as it pounded against its cage.

What the bloody hell was she going to _do_? How to get home? Was what that old wizard said really true? Was she now in the Morning Killer's crosshairs? But how could that be?

What did that creep want with the likes of _her_? She was a manager at the Broken Spoon Café, a bloody _nobody_ , for God's sake!

And to make matters worse, now the bearded old man said she couldn't go home, much less contact any of her family members to make sure they were all right.

What kind of sick perverted joke was this?! Renee let out a moan.

"What the hell are they _playing_ at, huh?" she whispered desperately to herself, clutching her middle tighter, her fingers winding around the material of her black t-shirt for support. "I—I have to bloody get home. Somehow…"

_I wonder if Billy's all right. If he remembered to feed Sprinkles. What if he calls? It's not like I can answer the bloody phone and tell him where I am. Can I get home at all while there's a serial killer after me? What if I'm trapped here_?

A floorboard creaked from somewhere behind her, startling the young blonde woman out of her disparaging thoughts, from what she knew to be the kitchen, and by this point, she knew it quite well, having bloody fallen through the goddamned ceiling and onto the kitchen table and almost broke her back.

Renee twisted her head and swiveled it to her immediate left so she could face whoever or whatever had entered the room and her lips parted open slightly in shock.

It was the man from earlier.

Sirius Black.

The chap was standing in the entryway to the living room parlor, looking thoroughly disgruntled and cross about God only knew what the hell at this point, not that Renee gave a crap, and holding onto what looked like a steaming cup of tea.

She bit the wall of her cheek and stiffened as the dark-haired wizard eyed her cautiously, as though expecting her to sprout horns out of the top of her head before waving his wand and conjuring a second chair.

Renee jumped, startled at the simple act of magic, though she cursed herself and ground her teeth.

If she was going to be in the company of witches and wizards for God only knew how long until this Morning Killer business was sorted out, then she supposed she was going to have to get used to witnessing literal acts of magic.

"Tea?" he barked gruffly, his voice sounding grating, rough, and coarse.

Renee only watched as the handsome stranger nodded to the metal tray in his hands, and when he did not answer, he slowly approached her as though she were a rabid animal that she had in her line of sight and he didn't want to get bit.

In his hands was a tea tray, laden with what looked like a plate of biscuits, a mug, small tins, and a small pot.

The man called Sirius continued to eye her, somewhat distrustfully, as he skirted towards the side and set down the tray on a small table which rested near the two armchairs in front of the roaring fireplace.

"I did not mean to interrupt, but that is, perhaps, I was, ah, told you might like tea," he grumbled, sounding thoroughly disgruntled, which set Renee off.

Renee merely watched as Sirius Black gave a jerk of his head towards the tray in his hands.

When she did not immediately answer, he let out a tiny growl, causing the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.

He sounded like a dog whenever he did this, and if she was being honest with herself, it freaked her out. _Big_ time.

The young blonde turned her gaze towards the tray that he had set down, rather awkwardly so, onto the table next to her armchair.

Was he…actually offering her _refreshments_? After holding her throat hostage with the tip of his wand?

She wasn't sure she could trust it at all. Renee let out a sigh and quirked a thin blonde eyebrow Black's way and let out a tiny snort.

Renee blinked owlishly at the tray all the while biting the wall of her cheek.

She could not help but to feel somewhat dazed and confused, after all, since ending up in this strange desolate house that she felt bloody sure was haunted, the only one to treat her with any semblance of normalcy had been Mrs. Lupin's husband, Remus.

And as for the _rest_ of them, particularly this handsome bloke in front of her, well, he'd tried to bloody murder her and interrogate her, for God's sake!

He'd tried to kill her, capture her, trick her, and he had screamed at her, thinking that she was a… _what did he call me?_

"What did you call me earlier?" she questioned, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "A—a Death Eater? What _is_ that?"

Renee sanguinely lifted her gaze and jutted her chin out slightly defiantly as she dared to meet the handsome man's gaze, her attention drawn to his collarbones and his chest as the buttons of his collared shirt were slightly undone, and she caught a glimpse of several strange-looking tattoo markings.

If it was at all possible, the man blushed, she swore she saw, his cheeks flushing high with color before Sirius Black pointedly looked away, grumbling something inaudible under his breath that sounded like a half-hearted apology.

"You aren't one," Sirius croaked hoarsely. "I—I was wrong to call you that. My apologies. They're a…"

He hesitated as his voice trailed off, and given he had turned to the side so that Renee could only make out his side profile, and what limited view she could see of the man's features given he was turned to the side like this was difficult, but she swore she saw a shadow of regret flit across his features as the warm red and orange glow from the fire in the hearth bathed half his face in the light, while the other half remained shrouded in shadow.

"A group of very bad people," he finished, finally finding his voice.

Renee nodded in understanding, deciding to let his comment go for now. The fact that he or anyone else in this godforsaken haunted house would think her to be a bad person was ridiculous and utterly unfounded.

"Thank you."

She blinked as she watched the man's head whiplash sharply upwards, and she flinched, shirking away from Sirius Black's slightly intimidating form as he regarded her expression of gratitude in silence, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"You're…welcome," he murmured at last, though his voice sounded strained, as though forcing himself to be polite to her was causing him a great deal of pain, and for a moment, Renee felt that hot fire seed of anger churn within the pits of her stomach, though she heard herself exhale when he spoke again, and at least this time, his tone did not sound so accusatory and hostile. "I don't blame you for the way you reacted, Miss Barreau. It is a lot to take in all at once, and…"

Here, he hesitated and looked away, seeming to steel himself for his next words, as though he believed Renee would have another outburst.

"I don't know if you overheard any of what was said in the kitchen," Sirius sighed as he pinched at his front temples with his thumb and forefinger, an exasperated, exhausted look on his face, "but Professor Dumbledore, the older gentlemen with the long beard, has designated me your guard for the time being until our people can apprehend the Morning Killer and get Tonks, the woman who saved your life tonight, out of jail for being wrongfully arrested, so please see me if there is anything that you need. Don't hesitate to ask."

Renee slowly nodded her head at all of the information, well aware she was looking shocked, but less so than she had expected to be at this news.

"I hope your people catch him," she grumbled darkly, reaching for the teacup on the table that rested on top of the tray on the table next to her leather armchair.

Feeling the need to make up for her hostility towards Sirius Black earlier, considering he was at least attempting to go out of his way to sort of apologize, Renee racked her brain for some sort of response, suddenly, not wanting him to leave her alone in an unfamiliar place where she did not know anybody at all.

"Um," she breathed as she gazed to the left and right at her new surroundings, looking for something, anything, with which to start a decent conversation.

Then she remembered just how bloody ancient the home she was in was and wondered if it belonged to this man.

"Is this…" Here, she gestured to the room around her with a wide flourish of her arm. "Your home, Sirius?"

This time, Sirius did lift his head slightly and turned to look at her.

"Ah. My parents', but yes, it is," he mumbled, looking flustered and dazed.

"It's…beautiful," Renee said hurriedly through gritted teeth, well aware she was literally lying through her teeth in this regard, hoping to spare the man's feelings. "I—uh, I'm sorry I dropped in, literally, unannounced."

She let out a nervous chuckle and reached up a hand to tuck a stray wisp of her blonde pixie cut behind her ears.

"I hope I didn't cause you too much trouble. The—the _table_ ," she squeaked, her pale blue orbs going wide and round with shock as she clamped a hand over her mouth. "I—I didn't break it, did I, Mr. Black?"

Renee frowned and looked towards the entrance that the old wizard and Remus Lupin had just vacated, and when she turned back around to regard Sirius, he was staring at her with an incredulous look of disbelief in his gray eyes, as though Renee had just sprouted horns on top of her head or something.

"Just Sirius. And you seem just like my bloody cousin, miss, if you don't mind my saying so," Sirius sighed, an exasperated look on his face. "Trouble has a way of finding you both. What's done is done. It can't be helped. I…apologize for the way that I treated you when you ah, dropped in tonight."

Renee nodded numbly, not sure what to say to that, thinking it strange the man would apologize so soon, though she suspected it was to make amends, considering the old wizard with the stupidly long beard had appointed the man to act as her personal bodyguard of sorts until they caught this serial killer.

"Tea?" Sirius murmured, jerking his head towards the tray on the table near the armchairs. "Which tea do you like? I have Chamomile, Earl Grey, Green, and Jasmin, and I'm sad to say there's little more to eat than these biscuits, darling."

He gestured, scrunching his nose in disgust, at the plate on the tray towards the four rather sad, somewhat stale looking cookies left out on the tray.

Renee felt strangely touched at the gesture that the man with who she'd gotten off on the wrong bloody foot had gone to so much trouble for a stranger.

Let alone one who'd literally fallen through his ceiling and was pretty sure she had broken the man's kitchen table in the process of breaking her fall.

Renee allowed a brief little smile to tug at the corners of her lips. "Chamomile, please. It's my favorite."

She plucked one of the cookies off the tray and took a bite, finding them to be much more delicious than they looked.

She watched in silence as Sirius Black nodded and gave a short rap of his wand, watching in awe as the tea magically prepared itself before the teacup floated delicately in midair and hovered in front of her outstretched, waiting for her palm.

Renee hesitated for a fraction of a second before accepting the tea mug.

Sirius, once finished, practically collapsed into the spare armchair next to hers and leaned his head back against the headrest, all the while expelling a slightly shaking breath of relief.

This gesture alone signaled to the young blonde restaurant manager of the café just how stressed out Sirius Black was.

Renee was of half a mind to go and search for his companions again and give them all a piece of her mind, though she didn't even know what she would say to an entire group of witches and wizards, people who could probably turn her to stone or into a newt, or _worse_ if she spoke against them.

"You don't look like _you're_ having a very good night either, Sirius," Renee murmured, both of her hands clasped around her piping hot mug of tea as she stared down into her tea as she checked it. "Before or after I…dropped in?"

The poor bloke's gray eyes suddenly flung wide open in shock as he brought his head down to stare at the young Muggle with a look of abject, utter horror.

"Ah, no, that's…not it," he grumbled, waving his hands in a frenzied, frantic manner, and Renee was briefly thinking she was staring at a mirror image of herself and how she tended to talk with her hands whenever stressed or excited.

Renee waited patiently like the polite adult that she was for the man to get his bearings, though he too, looked to be on the brink of a mental breakdown.

"No, that is…not it, Miss Barreau." His voice was soft and subdued.

"Just Renee," she interjected, echoing Sirius Black's words before he could so much as get another word in edgewise, to which she received a lopsided grin.

"'Just Renee' then. The woman that saved you, Remus's wife, she's my cousin," he confessed, carding his fingers through his thick mane of hair.

Renee nodded at Sirius's words, though something within the dark recesses of her mind clicked as visions of her confrontation in Echo Alley flitted through the forefront of her mind, and a cold chill wafted through her entire body.

"His _face_ …" she whispered, seeing the man's eyes as they had changed color.

At the time, she thought she was bloody crazy. Peoples' eyes don't randomly change colors without the help of colored contact lenses. And even before she had parked herself right in front of this fireplace, she thought she was going insane.

She had not noticed it before, or perhaps she hadn't been paying too close enough attention, or simply hadn't given herself the necessary peace and tranquility to contemplate on who this deranged serial killer might be.

Sirius noticed how Renee's already pale face had gone practically ashen and pallid as it drained of all colors.

"Barreau?" he barked hoarsely, leaning forward slightly in his chair, and narrowing his eyes to get a better look at her rapidly declining physical condition. "You all right? What the bloody hell is wrong?"

_Oh, shit. This is not happening. Damn it. I—I KNOW WHO HE IS_!

The spoon slipped from Renee's hand that she had been using to stir her tea and check the tea leaves and clattered to the living room parlor floor, yet Renee did not heed it any mind.

She twisted her neck slightly and stared numbly at her host, not wanting to believe the sudden turn of events that the night had taken.

"I—I'm not," she croaked hoarsely, murmuring to herself, not blinking.

"Are you sick?" Sirius demanded hoarsely. "You're pale as hell, girl."

She could hear her host speaking to her, but the words in her mind were not registering. It was as if they were traveling in one ear and out the other.

"I—I know who he _is_ ," Renee swore through gritted teeth, not bothering to mind her language. "Your guy, Sirius. The one that framed Tonks. He—he used to be a _customer_ of mine at the Broken Spoon Café, Sirius! He—if he's who I _think_ he is, he's a total disgusting _creep_ , and Tonks is in danger!"

Her host was now staring at her incredulously and regarding Renee with an extreme state of unease, as though weighing the option in his mind of deciding to trust her word or not.

He must have decided that he could trust her, for he gripped onto the handle of his wand tightly in a vice grip and raised it slowly.

" _Who_?" he demanded, a familiar harsh bark to his voice now that almost sounded like a low, animalistic growl. "If you know who he is, you need to tell us. We've been hunting him down for _months_ now, Miss Barreau. Tell me the guy's name, if you know it, and then I need to extract your memory. It won't hurt," Sirius spoke up softly, noticing how Renee instinctively flinched away and shrank back as far into her chair as she could possibly go. "If you _really_ know who he is, you need to tell me, and I need to extract your memory from tonight, if you will allow me to do so. When we go to Azkaban Prison in a little while, Dumbledore needs to present the evidence to the prison warden. Your memory along with my cousin's memory of what happened to her last night is the only thing that stands a chance of securing her release from there."

Renee nodded slowly, swallowing down hard past the lump in her throat.

"Okay," she whispered, slowly closing her eyes as she watched Sirius Black bring his wand closer until the tip of it was touching the side of her left temple.

It was over pretty much before it had started, and when Renee slowly opened her eyes, Sirius Black was pocketing what looked like a silver strand of her hair into a tiny glass vial.

"Your memory," he explained quietly, still shooting her cautious yet nervous glances, as though he expected the young blonde woman to erupt into another mental breakdown at any moment.

Renee nodded slowly, letting the harsh reality finally sink in as she collapsed back against her hair and seized on tufts of her pixie, tugging on them so hard that the roots screamed in protest.

Her fingers entangled themselves in her hair as they came away sticky.

"Damn," she swore through gritted teeth. "I—I _know_ who he bloody is, how could I have been so damned _stupid_?!"

Sirius furrowed his dark brows into a frown as he rose to stand, brushing his hands on the front of his crimson corduroy jacket.

"I think," he said slowly, outstretching his hand to help the young blonde up from her chair, "you need something a little _stronger_ than tea, Renee Barreau," he barked rather hoarsely.

Renee hesitated, but only for a moment before slipping her hand into his, momentarily surprised at how warm the man's inner palm was, and the second he had helped her to her feet and righted her posture, he jerked his hand away as though the touch had burned her, and both Sirius and Renee quickly pulled back into themselves.

"I think you might be right," Renee mumbled under her breath, painfully twisting her hands together as she followed him to the kitchens.

It was a moment before she spoke again.

"You wouldn't happen to have any beer, would you, Sirius?"


	20. Chapter 20

Tonks drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as the tall, towering form of her husband stepped from the shadows of the entryways and into the visitors' lobby, stealing her breath and the very heat from her skin, with that young Muggle girl from Echo Alley, trailing nervously alongside Remus, baby Teddy cradled in her arms, and a look of shock intermingled with abject horror and confusion as she witnessed the two-week-old baby's hair rapidly change color.

Dressing today in a pair of skinny blue jeans, black ballet flats, and a white zip-up fleece-lined hoodie, Renee Barreau was looking remarkably better for wear than the last time that Tonks had laid eyes on the girl, and as Sirius joined the pair of them in the visitor's lobby, it did not escape the Auror's attention that he seemed almost overly protective of the girl, and not in a friendship way, either.

Maybe there was something brewing between the two of them, though considering it had only been two days since her incarceration, it was too soon to say for sure what that 'thing' might be. Only those two knew the full truth of it.

But Tonks was only focused on that of her husband, and suddenly, her defenses were just paper, a paper that was being soaked by the rapidly falling briny drops. Before she could draw in the air that her body needs, she had bolted from her spot and melted into his form.

She could feel Lupin's firm torso underneath his thick sweater and the heart that beat within. His hands folded around her back, drawing her in closer. She could feel her body shake, crying for the last two days that she had thought and wondered if she would ever see her husband again.

He pulled his head back and wiped away the tears with a calloused finger, even this roughness brought more relief than Tonks felt like her heart could hold.

Remus was practically eating her with his eyes, his light brown eyes glistening with unshed moisture as he fought to blink back his sudden tears that threatened to escape from his lids if he could not manage to maintain his emotions. When he leaned in to kiss her, it was gentle and sweet and tasted of her tears.

Tonks wanted to speak, but all she could manage was a hoarse, weak croak. " _Don't_ let me stay in here, Rem. Please get me out," she pleaded quietly.

His scarred mouth painted a soft smile that lightened his scarred, hardened features and he nodded once more before folding his wife in his arms again. "We will," he promised, his own voice sounding rough and coarse, and vulnerable.

Tonks nodded, nestling her head into the crook of his shoulder as she pulled apart as the sound of the young blonde Muggle lass behind her clearing her throat reached her eardrums, and when she reluctantly tore herself away from her husband's embrace, she was not surprised to see Professor Dumbledore standing alongside Renee Barreau, who was glancing towards the aging old wizard with a look that Tonks could only describe as a look akin to fear of him.

Renee was wearing a face like she was expecting anger from Tonks, anger that just did not exist. But the girl couldn't have been further from the truth. All she had for the young Muggle was respect, and all the young Auror wanted was to keep her safe since they still had a wicked serial killer to apprehend, after all.

But Tonks could tell Renee Barreau would not accept it yet, that she felt some kind of weird, misplaced guilt for her part in all of this as if she could have done something sooner to aid in securing her release from Azkaban Prison.

She almost looked guilty, though Merlin only knew why, as the young blonde shot Tonks and Remus a nervous, skittish glance and handed the baby towards Remus, who took baby Teddy in his arms without so much as hesitating once.

In truth, though she was twenty-six, Renee Barreau still acted like a kid. Tonks liked and could appreciate the fact that the woman wanted to own up to her mistakes, but she was going to need to learn how to forgive herself too. What had happened to Tonks in Echo Alley was not her fault, though she kept shooting a nervous look towards Remus in particular like she seemed to think that it was.

"W—we came to get you out," she managed in a breathy little squeak, painfully twisting her hands together as she looked towards Dumbledore for confirmation. "P—Professor Dumbledore said that you needed my memories?"

Tonks nodded, glancing at Remus out of the corner of her eyes before gingerly lifting Teddy from her husband's arms to cradle the baby close to her chest. "Yes. The Warden's office is down the hall and to the left. Can we go?"

"In time," Professor Dumbledore answered grimly, though he ordered the lot of them to follow him with a curt wave of his arm. "Shall we? I believe you will want to know who he is prior to returning home with your husband and son, Mrs. Lupin?" he asked, a grave twinkle in his eyes, the edges of his lips twitching, and his beard gave a twitch without the Headmaster prompting it.

Tonks nodded, and allowed herself to be led towards Miranda's office, with Remus hand intertwined around hers, her baby nestled comfortably in her other arm, with Sirius and Renee lingering in the visitors' lobby, not wanting to crowd the Warden's office by having too many people in there all at once.

As Tonks allowed Remus to escort her to Miranda's office alongside Professor Dumbledore, holding baby Teddy in her arms, she could not shake the feeling that for the first time since her false arrest, that everything would be okay.

If only she could have known how wrong she was…

* * *

It had started out simple enough. With the Morning Killer following the movements of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin following the arrest of his son, with him never dreaming that the young witch who had the ultimate hand in his boy's demise would end up catching his eye instead, and now, to make matters truly delish, there was a lovely young slip of a blonde thing, that Muggle girl he had encountered in Echo Alley, that her wretched family and friends brought with.

It took a few weeks of following the pink-haired Auror and her husband and newborn baby to slowly edge closer and closer, get a look at her personal life.

Study her movements, her habits, making her the perfect target for his game.

But now…oh, this was truly _precious_. So much so that the Morning Killer almost threw back his head and laughed as he silently observed the young witch waiting nervously for her husband to arrive in the visitors' lounge. She had enlisted the help of that Muggle bitch from The Broken Spoon Café in order to secure her release from this place.

It had not been his intent to shift his focus onto the young woman's friend, this Renee Elizabeth Barreau, to make it his personal project to kidnap the Muggle bitch in order to get back at the witch who'd ruined his son's life and his as well, but here the Morning Killer was, doing just that.

He had learned from reliable sources that Mrs. Lupin was scheduled to be released from this place following the commencement of Professor Dumbledore's meeting with the Warden.

A fact which set his blood flaming in his veins, hotter than any agitated Hungarian Horntail or Chinese Fireball could flame, and he clenched his hands into fists and shoved them into the pockets of his trousers to prevent himself from lashing out at something in utter rage, which would give him away. The Morning Killer barely stifled the growl that formed in his throat.

Her face. That witch, the _bitch_. He simply could not get these ghastly images out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. He wondered why Merlin had forsaken him so. Had he done something, said something, to incur His wrath? His mind was rushed by the memory of his only son getting arrested at the ripe age of sixteen for heinous crimes against a Muggle woman.

He grimaced, raking his fingernails down the side of the stone-slabbed wall as he silently seethed, grinding his teeth in anger, tearing his eyes away from the horrid image. The alarmed man blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear his head of that horrid memory. He slid his hands down his face, clutching at his green sweater.

He breathed in…out…in…out… but his exasperated lungs could simply not get enough air. His son's death haunted him daily as dreadful scenes of that horrid night that the very bitch who he had painstakingly gone out of his way to ensure she ended up in here alongside him threatened to consume him entirely.

"Sir?" A female's voice, soft, shy, and hesitant piped up from behind and he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. "You all right?" she asked, and the Morning Killer did not even have to turn to know that it was the blonde lass.

He recognized her voice, at least this time, she wasn't screaming bloody murder at him as she had in Echo Alley. Though he froze. If he turned around, she would see his face. Know who he was. And that he could not allow.

It was this thought and this single thought alone that kept him firmly rooted to his spot.

"Hey. Here's some water, sir. You look like you need it." The Muggle girl's voice was softer than silk and low as she stepped forward slightly, to which the Morning Killer turned to his left so she would only see his side profile, and even that he knew the blonde girl wouldn't be able to get a good look at his features in the dim light of the corridor like this. She held out the cup of water.

His wide glazed eyes blinked rapidly as he glanced down at the small plastic cup of ice water that someone, probably the Warden or Dumbledore, had given her, and now she was offering it to him as if he were processing the girl's words. The man knew he looked more than shocked by the blonde's kind reaction. His breaths hitched in his throat as he shakily accepted the water cup.

"Thank you," the man managed to croak out, his voice sounding grating, rough and coarse as he swallowed down hard past the growing lump in his throat. His head was spinning from all the blood that was rushing to his cheeks. He really needed a moment. "You should…you should be getting back inside to them."

Here, as if to emphasize his point, he gave a jerk of his head towards the interior of the lobby, where out of the corner of his peripherals, he caught Sirius Black cautiously eyeing the young blonde woman conversing with this stranger.

"Anytime," Renee Elizabeth Barreau offered in a cheerful sounding voice, and the Morning Killer could not resist the temptation to lift his chin just slightly, so as to get a better look at the young Muggle woman's pale and perfect features. His face, he was sure of this, held a dumbfounded expression, and the only consolation to assuage the slight twinge of guilt that pricked at his heartstrings for choosing this woman as his next target to strike a killing blow into Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin's heart, was that she deserved it.

The naivety of this young woman! The poor lass had no idea that the Morning Killer held sinister intentions. It was so innocent and naïve of this girl to blindly offer a stranger a cup of water that it actually made the man want to spin around on the heel of his shoes and grab Renee Elizabeth Barreau by the shoulders and give the girl a hard shaking.

It made him want to ask the blonde if anyone had ever taught her not to trust any random strangers, no matter how much it looked like they suffered.

Why was this girl so stupidly trusting so Merlin damned fast today? How _gullible_ could she be? "Go," he croaked hoarsely, turning his head to the side to continue to keep his face shrouded in shadow. "Your friends are waiting for you."

The blonde parted her lips open slightly to speak, looking as if she had something to say, but must have thought better of it, for she closed her mouth and gave her head a curt shake, merely proceeding to look at the Morning Killer's silhouette shrouded in shadow with furrowed, raised eyebrows and a look of insatiable curiosity, so much so that he almost found that he could not stand it.

Suddenly, the man wished for nothing more than the blonde lass to leave his side and not look at him like this, not as he was at present, an utter disaster.

" _Go_!" he repeated, his tone hard and clipped this time, looking down at the ground in defeat, and yet, he saw out of the corner of his eyes he had caused the Muggle woman to flinch. Renee Barreau did not need to be told a third time.

Quickly ducking under his arm, Renee shot him one last slightly admonishing and distrusting glance as she made for the visitors' lobby to join Tonks and her husband and Sirius Black, a man who, if the Morning Killer was being honest with himself, was looking forward to seeing again and totally ruining. He needed a moment to himself to think over what course of action to take next.

The fact that the woman was due to be placed under house arrest at an undisclosed location following her release from here while the investigation into her wrongful arrest was troublesome to the man, oh, yes, but he would adapt.

He was going to have to improvise, and as he ogled the young blonde Muggle girl as she was escorted out of the Warden's office by her personal guard, that man he recognized, Sirius Black, he could not help but notice the growing level of interest and lust in the former prisoner of Azkaban's eyes, and he snorted.

The Morning Killer considered himself an opportunist, in the end. A man who would do whatever was necessary in order to achieve his desired results, as long as he reaped the benefits, in the end. He bit the wall of his cheek, watching.

He knew there was very little chance of taking Mrs. Lupin once the Warden had authorized her release from Azkaban, considering she was to be placed under house arrest and just so much as stepping one toe out of the threshold of her safe house, that sanctuary, would bring the Aurors running.

The man ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, hating that his precious laid plans were about to be ruined because of this new development.

No. He was going to have to improvise and get back at her a different way. His inquisitive, sharp green eyes slid towards the young blonde lass, who was standing off in a corner of the room talking animatedly with her hands to Sirius Black, and his interest became piqued. She was a far sight plainer than Mrs. Lupin, though still pretty enough. Of average height, around 5'5, he surmised.

Short blonde hair cut in a pixie cut. Natural-looking makeup with a little red lip gloss on luscious, full lips. A white fleece zip-up hoodie and blue jeans. Black boots.

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin was all but forgotten to him now, for the time being, at least. The witch would get hers once she was released from Azkaban. It was all part of his master plan. Genius, really, though what he really wanted was the Muggle woman. Now all he could think of was the sullen woman, a truly petite little slip of a thing, with whom she seemed to be getting close to Black.

The edges of his lips curled upwards into a twisted grimace as his inquisitive eyes lingered on former prisoner Sirius Black's backside, hatred welling in his heart. Both of them, Black and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, spent their time living lives neither one of them should have ever been privileged to live through.

Taking walks in the park, taking photos of their baby, laughing, making faces when the witch took one of herself with her infant son in the picture to make the baby laugh.

Considering his _own_ son didn't even make it to his eighteenth birthday. Because of _her_. She and her wretched werewolf of a husband had no right to enjoy the simple things in life anymore, and for some reason, the thought of making the witch and her husband suffer, just as he and his wife had suffered when they lost their boy, was thrilling to the Morning Killer as he watched Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin become reunited with her husband and son from the entryway of the visitors'' lobby of Azkaban Prison.

It was supposed to be a joyous thing, being reunited with a loved one, but the only thing it succeeded in making the Morning Killer's insides revolt and his stomach lurch and churn as his pale face turned an interesting shade of green as he pointedly looked away from the married couple's loving embrace, not wanting to think of his own wife.

His Helen. Sweet, pure, innocent, as lovely as the sunrise. His love. The only other good thing in his otherwise wretched life to come out of this world aside from their son, and she too now, was gone. As much as his heart ached for Helen to return to him, and their son, his hazy dream could never come to fruition. There simply was, and could never be, a cure for death, as much as he wished for it.

Helen's dark brown eyes drenched his memory. And now, as he stood in the entryway of the visitors' lounge, watching as Mrs. Lupin was joined by Sirius Black and the Muggle girl, Renee Elizabeth Barreau, she who had been so kind to him just now by asking after his wellbeing, his obsession on her grew.

The Morning Killer gave his head a curt shake to clear his mind and finally, by some miracle of Merlin, was able to tear his jealous gaze away from the sickeningly sweet sight of the Lupin bitch surrounded by her family and friends.

He walked purposefully through the passages of Azkaban Prison, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets, not really sure at all where he was going, his footsteps echoing off the quarried stones. He often marveled at how quickly Azkaban had been repaired following that mass breakout of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters a few years ago. Almost a full year to the day, a year since Helen…

 _No_! The man forced his mind to grind to a halt. He would not think of his wife. He had said goodbye to Helen a year ago when she'd died of cancer.

Even as the Morning Killer swore to leave his lovely wife in the past, and as practical as he prided himself on being, there were still times when the pain of Helen's death, and that of their only son's, would seep unwanted to the surface and render him nearly unable to breathe. Last night had been one of those times.

He had slept admittedly very little, finding the quiet still darkness of the bedroom of his sanctuary, that safe house in downtown London an unwelcome burden, as he had fought to keep thoughts of Helen and their son from his mind.

The Morning Killer had spent the dark hours laying in wake forcing his chest to rise and fall while he'd stared aimlessly up at the lazily rotating blades of the ceiling fan, as sucking in the night air pushed down the lump in his throat and filled the empty black void in his heart caused by the deaths of his son and wife. He willed his mind to think of nothing as unable to sit still any longer, he'd gotten up and restlessly paced the confines of the small and simple little bedroom.

His fists balled tightly against his pain, fury, and rage, which were his foundations, his bedrock upon which he molded his new personality these days.

Racked with the memory of his wife and son, the only good things in his life, so cruelly taken away from him, his heart felt like an empty hollowed pit. He had dreamed of Helen. She had visited her husband in his sleep many times since her passing. In the darkness, his phantasm of a wife came to him, then.

As clear as the nights that they had spent together, and the passions shared. As if Helen were right beside him, he saw straight into the depths of her rich pools of umber that were her dark brown eyes that held him captive within a single look, felt the gentleness of Helen's frail arms around his broad chest, tasted the sweetness of her kiss, and he swore he felt a lock of her hair tickle his chin.

Each time that Helen came to visit him, the Morning Killer was able to relive the love that he had thought he found, his newfound peace in a hellish life, and the heartache of waking to find his wife gone from her side of the bed, and their son not in his bedroom, his body still tingling with the memory of his wife.

He would never dare admit this to anybody, but he was afraid that he would never truly be able to go back to that life that he had shared with Helen.

It had been hard at first, working in the very place where their son had died. The Morning Killer had not been able to drive away from the tinges of melancholy when he had arrived the other night to pay the young witch a visit.

He had expected his son's spirit, his very presence to haunt every corner of this wretched, accursed prison. He pondered thoughts of what the future held for him once he took care of Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, that bitch who'd ruined his life as he slowed his stride upon standing just outside of Miranda's lavish office.

Miranda, ever the intuitive witch and sensing she was being watched, sensed the Morning Killer before she saw him. She greeted him almost before the man had crossed the threshold of the corridor and stepped into her office.

"Everett." She glanced up from a stack of papers, release papers, from the looks of them, and peered at him through the rims of her spectacles. "Sit down."

Everett inclined his head as a show of respect, his gaze flitting towards another well-respected Auror, one that he recognized, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, whose magical blue eye was swiveling wildly in all directions, though his one good eye that he still possessed remained fixated coldly on him. "You sent for me?" He resisted the urge to smirk at the look of rage in Moody's eyes.

He already knew they had discovered his deepest, darkest secret. But oh, they would learn soon enough that he had no intention of living in a cell here.

Miranda was thoughtful for a moment before she spoke. "It would appear that I have made a grave error on my part," she snapped, no semblance of warmth to her tone as she slammed down the packet of what looked to be release papers for Tonks' release from Azkaban and fixed Everett with a truly glowering look.

A shadow of regret and sadness flitted across Miranda's lined features as the Warden continued addressing Everett in a stern voice tinged with melancholia.

"You were skilled in your job, Everett. Strong, honorable, once, or so I was initially led to believe. I could not have asked for a better counselor on my staff here, but it is with a heavy heart indeed that I must ask you to relinquish those duties and allow Auror Moody to escort you down the hall to process your admittance into the system, though this time, as a prisoner…"

He feigned innocence and straightened his posture as he sat down politely in the chair, forcing his facial features to mold into a mask of perfect indifference.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked politely, keeping his gaze fixated on Miranda solely and bypassing the growing look of anger in Mad-Eye Moody's eyes. "How do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair, and resting his cheek in his right fist, suddenly looking rather bored. The game was now up.

The fingers of his wand hand twitched as he fought back the urge to dip into his jacket pocket and draw his wand prematurely. He had to wait for the right moment. His posture stiffened as he felt Alastor Moody's fingers grip tightly onto his shoulder and roughly hall him to his feet.

"Kindly remove your hand." The words escaped his lips as a low growl before Everett could stop himself, to which he received a threatening snarl from Moody in response to it.

"You're not in a position to be making demands, boy," Moody barked hoarsely, his ironclad grip on Everett's shoulder tightening. "We saw the truth."

Miranda quickly nodded her agreement with the grizzled old Auror as she half rose from her desk, a look of rage causing her face to drain of all colors.

"How _could_ you, Everett?" she demanded, speaking in volumes that almost sent a chill under his skin. "Those poor people, those lives you stole."

Everett tightened his lips, favoring silence as the only apt response. His eardrums caught a familiar ringing of shame coming from deep within his soul. Had he underestimated his abilities? He had thought he'd been careful. Was it that Muggle bitch? Had she recognized him, perhaps, and spilled the truth?

It was… _impossible_. He had been careful to cover his tracks, he was sure of it. Her voice came again, sounding pulled tight and taut with rage and shame.

"How _could_ you?"

Everett swallowed. He could not remember seeing the details of how the Warden of Azkaban Prison turned to face her now-former counselor fully. Her face was stiff and all traces of her usual softness towards him had now dried out.

"How could you…?" she repeated, it seemed to be the only thing she could say, narrowing her eyes in despair and increase. "You murdered those people and framed an innocent woman for your own crimes. Why did you, sir?"

When at last he found his voice, it was deeper than he had ever heard it.

"I am surprised the Muggle woman managed to recognize me, that far away. "Though I don't see why you have to send her away. Let her stay awhile."

"You're insane," Moody snarled through his teeth and made a noise that sounded like a sniff of disapproval through what little was left of his scarred nose.

Everett ignored the Auror, keeping his gaze trained on Miranda alone.

"You're mistaken if you think that I am here to hurt either one of you," he continued as he turned languidly in his seat to flick his gaze towards Alastor. "Yes, I cannot deny that I am him. I am…sorry that you had to find out in this way, Miranda."

And he truly did sound remorseful, though just as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone.

"But I don't give a _damn_ about that anymore. No, you see, I actually found something that I want, something lovely. And I've had enough of the waiting and both of you now stand in my way of getting it."

"Got in the way of what? Speak up, boy, start making sense!" snapped Moody, not in the mood for their suspect's roundabout answers or riddles, even as his heart thrummed erratically in his chest, and for once, it wasn't in anger.

No, it was trepidation, and Alastor was quick to decide he did not like it.

"Now look who's feigning ignorance," growled Everett smoothly, his mouth forming a strange, triumphant smile as he had to crane his neck upward slightly to better look the veteran old Auror and Nymphadora Lupin's mentor in the eye. "I'm talking of Bryce, Alastor. You remember my _son_ , don't you? You ought to. _She_ arrested him," he growled, pointing a shaking finger out to the hallway, where Remus Lupin and his wife lingered with the others while talking.

Everett's words were nonchalant as if they meant utterly nothing, but the listlessness in his cold and calculating forest green eyes told a different story.

Moody exchanged a dark glance with the Warden, trying his best to hide any hint of his emotions, he even tried not to clench his teeth in utter disgust, but after a moment, he watched as Azkaban Prison's best counselor's green eyes glistened and his Cheshire Cat-like grin widened unnaturally even further.

Everett felt as though his lungs had turned to stone in his chest. Everything ached and suddenly felt heavy. He looked to the side to catch Moody's quick evasion of his eye contact. And, perhaps for the first time in his adult life, shame rained down on him like a jinx that had caused the clouds to cover the sun.

Which made sense to him in his mind now that Tonks was about to be released from prison, and the Muggle girl, his new obsession at getting back at her, was to go with her. _They're leaving. Where is Renee Barreau going_?

He knew he needed to snatch Barreau in order to get to Mrs. Lupin.

 _Where are they going_? Everett kept repeating it over and over in his head waiting for an answer, but none came to him, and neither Moody nor Miranda were skilled Legilimens and as such, could not dip into his mind and tell him the answer that he so desperately needed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mrs. Lupin holding her baby son in her arms, her husband's arm around her shoulder, and the blonde Muggle who'd offered him a cup of water trailing close behind.

He felt his anger jump a level and the urge to kill pump through him. He tightened his hands into fists, now shaking at his sides until his knuckles were tight and white. Where were they going? He had to act before it was too late.

Before Miranda could turn towards Alastor Moody to tell the old Auror to escort him out of her office, Everett let out a threatening growl that rumbled from deep within the pit of his chest and launched himself across the desk and brutally beat the Warden of Azkaban Prison.

Blood splattered across the room and jinxes were fired, reverberating off the walls of the Warden's office as an alarm sounded. His reflexes on overdrive, Everett plunged his wand hand into the interior pocket of his jacket and silently pointed his wand at Alastor Moody.

The Morning Killer used a nonverbal incantation to incapacitate the man where he stood, watching in satisfaction as the Auror's reflexes in his aging years were too slow, and Alastor crumpled in an unconscious heap to the ground. Letting out a growl of satisfaction, he continued his beating of the Warden, and once the life had gone from Miranda, Everett looked at the witch a moment.

He could hear the ringing of the alarms that were reverberating off the walls and ignoring the startled screams and shouts of the other Azkaban inmates. Everett did not bother to concern himself with that, and he turned on the heel of his shoe and out into the corridor of the main level of Azkaban Prison.

Satisfied with himself, Everett was smart enough not to look back as he walked away from the bleeding body of Miranda slumped forward in her chair, or of the unconscious but stirring slightly figure of Alastor Moody on the ground.

He was not even enraged when he witnessed the werewolf latch onto his wife's arm, with their two-week-old infant son cradled carefully in Mrs. Lupin's arms, shout something inaudible towards his companion, good old 'Seriously, Sirius' Black, Everett remembered that one, as he grabbed his wife's arm and Disapparated, with Black doing the same thing with Muggle Renee Barreau.

Everett whistled a low tune to himself as he strolled out the door, the sound of the sirens wailing in his eardrums, not in a hurry in the slightest bit.

He had a young Muggle woman to find.


	21. Chapter 21

Tonks felt a vein twitch in her brow as she glanced down at baby Teddy in her arms and craned her neck up to look at Remus.

Sirius and Renee were back at Headquarters for now with Professor Dumbledore, giving the man an update on what they had witnessed, at least knowing the Morning Killer's name and face now would surely alert the Aurors and putting the Ministry one step closer to getting Everett off the streets and behind jail bars.

Her gaze was stricken with horror as she tilted her chin to meet her husband's eyes, but nevertheless held intense resolve.

"I—I can't believe it," Tonks croaked hoarsely, collapsing into the rocking chair that nestled in the living room of their small cottage.

Tonks blearily lifted her chin and gazed around their simple but homely environment, feeling a sense of relief at being home, a place she wasn't sure if she would see again, wash over her, though quickly intermingled with it was a sense of unease.

The fact that Moody, who relatively unscathed, though visibly shaken, had paid the pair of them a visit less than an hour ago to inform them he had failed to apprehend their target and the Morning Killer was once again at large, was cause for concern, and the man seemed hellbent on finding Renee.

"That we know who he is and what he wants, sweetheart?" Remus finished his wife's thought for her, waving his wand, and conjuring up a second chair as he pulled it closer to join his wife and newborn son and sit with them.

Tonks nodded, feeling a lump gathering in her throat. "What about Renee, Remus?" she asked, glancing at Lupin out of the corner of her eye, though she quickly became distracted as baby Teddy started cooing, squirming in his swaddling for attention. "She—she's in danger," she moaned. "It's my fault."

Remus looked at his wife with compassion and shook his head. "Sirius and Professor Dumbledore will ensure Miss Barreau's safety, Dora, and we'll do what we can, of course…"

Though as he lifted his chin and met Tonks's gaze, his pained face revealed the realization of what had very nearly happened to the woman that he loved. His wife could have been _killed_ by that man.

Lupin felt a lump in his throat start to form, and he did not bother to try to hide the fearful tears that brimmed at the edges of his lids as he looked at his wife.

"He could have _killed_ you…" Lupin started to say.

"And _you_ would surely have been if we would have stayed," Tonks answered immediately without any hesitation her part, though she sounded equally frightened by how close they had come to orphaning poor baby Teddy if Remus had not Disapparated with them when he had, getting a good look at the Morning Killer's piercing eyes of listless green, fathomless, emotionless pits.

Tonks reached over, shifting Teddy in her arms and allowing the baby's head to nestle in the crook of her elbow, so that her free hand to clutch tightly onto Remus's hand with her own, and gave it a gentle but firm, reassuring squeeze.

"I'd rather have died with you than face an entire world without you, Rem. I need my husband and Teddy needs his father," she whispered, smiling as Lupin reached across and carefully gathered Tonks in his arms as they stood.

Lupin's joy matched Tonks's at the fact that his wife was now safely released from Azkaban Prison and back home with him in their simple home where she rightfully belonged, and drawing Dora closer to him still, careful to mind the baby in her arms, Remus did not hesitate to tilt Tonks's face towards his as he cupped her chin firmly in his hand, pulling her closer.

Their lips parted and met at last, tasting the sweet, gentle passion that was denied them for the better part of two brutally long and agonizing days, not knowing if Dumbledore and Renee would succeed in getting Tonks released from jail.

Lupin reluctantly pulled himself from her and stared deeply into his wife's eyes, reaching up and brushing away a stray tear that escaped from Tonks's eyelids with a tender caress.

"I love you, Dora," he murmured, whispering it into the shell of her ear as he leaned forward to take Teddy from her.

"I love you too, Rem," she murmured, getting a familiar twinkling glint in her pale gray orbs that Lupin had come to know and recognize over the years as he strode across their bedroom floor to lay Teddy down in his crib so he could sleep.

Tonks waited patiently until the baby was settled and Remus moved to stand next to his wife in the middle of their bedroom, though Tonks did not miss the almost longing glance as he looked over his shoulder and towards their bed.

Sensing he wanted more, Tonks spoke up quietly, standing until she was practically pressed up against his chest, her hands splayed across his chest, her left near Lupin's heart.

"It's been two days, Remus," she whispered, the beginnings of a slightly lascivious smile forming on her face. "Let's not waste it…."

* * *

Two hours later, Tonks awoke in the same place she had fallen asleep. On her side of the bed, in her own home, with her body pressed against Lupin's searing-hot, scarred flesh, with her head resting in the crook of Remus's right shoulder.

She had been so exhausted from earlier' s narrow escape of the failed arresting of Azkaban Prison's former counselor, and from the sensual passions she and Remus had allowed themselves to succumb to once baby Teddy was fast asleep that Tonks had quickly fallen asleep, safe in Remus's arms.

Lupin laid awake that night, reveling in watching his sleep on her side, thinking the pale, perfect celestial-like witch was the most beautiful thing ever to happen to a creature like him, feeling the pleasure of her body entangled around his, her right leg wrapped tightly around his upper thigh, squeezing.

His wife's chin-length dark pink wavy bob cascaded over his cheek in wisps and stray strands, tickling the stubble along Lupin's jawline, and the melody of his Dora's deep, rhythmic breathing soothed his troubled soul and made him feel young and new again.

Remus shifted slightly to better support his wife's weight on top of him, causing Tonks to become coaxed from her deep sleep by the feeling of Lupin's body almost shaking in the darkness. Confused, she woke with a start.

It wasn't the full moon, and even if it were, she would have ensured her husband would have taken his Wolfsbane Potion…

Was he crying? What on earth was bothering him? Her confusion and mounting panic over her husband's wellbeing increasing, Tonks grunted with the effort to raise herself up on one elbow, turning her concerned face to meet his.

"Remus? What's wrong?" she murmured, raising a hand to his forehead to feel for any signs of fever. "Are you sick?"

She trailed off when she realized Lupin was not crying. He was laughing and trying to be quiet about it. It was the kind of genuine happiness with which Tonks was sure that, until she had literally fallen into his life outside of Sirius's parents home the first night she had been inducted in the Order.

"I'm sorry, Dora," he apologized, shooting his wife a pained look, but he made no effort to quell the smile that crept onto his face as Remus lifted his chin to look Tonks in the eye.

Her husband's mirth was positively contagious. Tonks quirked a brow Remus's way and allowed a snort to pass her lips through her utmost confusion as she stared at Lupin.

"What's so funny, Rem?" she questioned, her gaze darting from her husband and to Teddy's crib, to Lupin's left.

She smiled at him, feeling somewhat bewildered. Remus was a man who was always so solemn and serious, it was good to see him smiling.

He did it more often ever since she had come into his life, he hadn't stopped smiling the night they married, and when baby Teddy had entered into the world.

"Oh, I was just thinking about the night you and I met. How if I wouldn't have caught you, you'd have fallen and…" his voice turned solemn and his gaze intense and serious once more as his laughter died as he pulled Tonks to lay on top of him once more, her knee grazing against his inner thigh. "And instead, it was I who fell," he murmured, whispering it into the shell of her ear in a low, husky voice heavy with desire for her.

He pressed his lips to hers, his hands drifting to the back of her hair, pressing in softly, his kiss joyful, intense, and deep.

When they reluctantly had to break the kiss for air, he removed Dora's hand from his scarred chest and brought it softly to his lips and kissed her white-boned knuckles tenderly.

Her bright white smile and loving gaze wiped away so many years of his melancholic loneliness. He found himself looking forward to their future together as Teddy's parents.

Lupin reached out and wrapped his arms around Dora's slender waist, resting his face in her lap as she sat upright, though Tonks was quick to bend down and enfold her husband in her arms. She rested her cheek atop his head and held him.

After what felt like a blissful eternity in silence, with the two of them just basking in the warmth the other gave off, relishing in the heat, Remus lifted his head from Tonks's lap, softly taking Dora's hands in his tight grasp, cradling them, staring at a new scar along her thumb, tracing it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world, before he stared, enraptured in her pale gray orbs once again and held her stare.

"I know that, even now, I can't offer you much, Dora. I know you deserve so much more than what I can give you and Teddy. All I have is my heart, which has always been yours, sweetheart," he declared. "I've lost you before, twice. I nearly lost you for good earlier if we hadn't Disapparated when we had. I'm not going to take that chance again," he promised her.

Tonks searched Lupin's face with a longing, needful gaze. "You've done everything right by me, Remus," she murmured. "You're a kind man, darling. With a good, _good_ heart. Your heart is pure, and you love me more than I could ever hope for. You accepted me for who I am, not who everybody wanted me to be because of my abilities. That is enough for me, and it's all I could ever ask for. I love you, Remus," Tonks whispered, and leaned in to kiss Lupin, slowly this time, but passionate.

They broke apart, fulfilled and spent from their time underneath the sheets earlier, but before Lupin could collapse back against his pillow, Tonks shot out an arm and latched her hand around his wrist, and held his left hand to her heart.

She shifted at the waist and looked at him dreamily. Lupin had to roll onto his elbow and drape his other arm protectively against Tonks's bare waist, finding his wife to be the most beautiful woman on Merlin's entire green earth.

"I love you, Rem. I hope you never forget it," Tonks whispered softly, reaching up to kiss his nose, then his forehead before finally pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

Remus responded in kind by caressing his wife's face with his hand, running his fingers through her short wavy pink hair.

She had offered him so much more than he ever dreamed would be his. A normal life. A wife whom he loved more than anything, a beautiful baby boy in Teddy Remus Lupin, a great wizard in the making. Nymphadora Tonks Lupin had brought him back to life, whether his wife was aware she had or not.

"Dora," he affirmed, wanting his soulmate to hear his words. "I don't know whether or not you know this, but you've made me the luckiest and happiest man in all of Great Britain. With all that I am, though it is not much, I love you, darling."

She smiled at him, that brilliant white smile that was like his beacon in the darkness, and settled her head against his shoulder.

Remus and Tonks lay together entwined in their bed in the darkness of the bedroom, both of them feeling complete.

Remus reached for Dora, his heart was so full that the werewolf thought it might burst, though his mind was clear.

Tonks met him with clarity and certainty. Their lips claimed each other softly with just a hint of possessiveness, and in the moment, promised a happy future together, no thoughts of the Morning Killer engulfing their consciences.

The kiss they shared was just the beginning, Tonks and Lupin knew, of the lifetime and joy that would follow, once the Morning Killer was off the streets of London and behind bars.

The two of them fell asleep in one another's arms and for the first time in several months, fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Everett wound his slightly calloused fingers around the door that led to Remus and Tonks's bedroom, well aware the hour was late, but he did not care.

He wanted to look upon the pink-haired bitch one last time before he went after the blonde Muggle lass, the final killing blow that would surely destroy the Auror that had a hand in murdering his own son.

He did not know what to make of this.

His long black robes swishing and billowing with his movements as he walked towards the bed, not intent on harming them. Just to watch.

The edges of his short, dark beard twitched without prompting as he looked at the most unusual, but not unpleasant sight before him, his moss-like, forest green eyes twinkling at the very sight.

There before him lay Auror Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin perched silently on pillows piled high on the side of the bed, her face pale and drained of colors, giving the pink-haired Auror an almost ethereal, angelic appearance.

This illusion was only emphasized by the silk and lace white nightgown she wore. Her eyes were closed, her lips having regained some color.

Everett did not bother to conceal the beginnings of his truly wicked smile as his inquisitive gaze briefly wandered the length of the girl's body in an appreciative way, though his smile faltered a little as he looked at the bitch, his blood burning hotter than any dragon fire could flame, oh, yes….

Everett's bright green eyes drifted slightly to Tonks's right, seeing the most peculiar image in the entire world, something he had never set foot on before.

And something, the Morning Killer knew, he'd never see again in another thousand lifetimes. Nestled comfortably in the arms of Tonks lay a head of light brown flecked with bits here and there of gray.

Remus John Lupin, werewolf, and an incredibly selfless and kind man with a good, _good_ heart, or so he had overheard when he was listening in outside their bedroom window, was practically a wolf cub curled up in the young witch's lap as the pair slept.

His face seemed to bask in the warmth of his beautiful wife's soft stomach. His arms, whether the man was aware of it or not in his sleep, were encircled around the pink-haired woman's waist, breathing hushed, the poor man's scarred shoulders softly rising and falling.

Remus was clinging to Nymphadora as a boy would to his mother, selfishly fencing her in his strong arms, absorbing the young witch's radiance and her heat solely for himself. Her purple-painted fingernails weaved in between his mats of thick brown hair.

Together, Everett thought, they almost looked _too_ perfect, which was an obscure thought if ever there was one at all.

A wolf and a she-lion tangled in the bedsheets in the most eccentric splendor Everett could possibly imagine for them.

And he hated it. Everett ducked out of their bedroom, down the hallway, though not in a hurried pace, but rather, a leisurely stroll, taking his time, not Disapparating until he reached the edge of the woods that bordered their backyard.

As he walked, he could not help his thoughts as they drifted towards that of the young Muggle girl, his favorite waitress and the manager of the little Broken Spoon Café out by the Muggle train station, back to that moment in the lobby.

Everett had been all logic and feigned cold detachment until their fingers had touched when he'd accepted that glass of water from Renee Elizabeth Barreau, though it had taken all of his willpower not to clamp his teeth down on her fingers, to taste her blood.

Though that time would come, he needed to be patient. Everett drew in a sharp breath of cold air that pained his lungs as he looked at the fair-haired maiden that he would marry very shortly.

When he had touched her hand earlier, something foreign and unfamiliar stirred not only within him, but it overtook Everett's thinking.

The rest of his world became an unimportant blur that was banished into the far corners of his mind. The only thing that mattered anymore was finding an excuse to keep the Muggle girl by his side before killing her.

To touch her more, to taste her honey-sweet sin with his own tongue. Everett felt his entire body stiffen as the young woman began to walk back towards the estate, leaving the downtown streets of London and making to head back towards his safe house.

It was then that he began to have highly inappropriate thoughts of the luscious beauty.

He wanted the girl on her back, he wanted her on top, Everett wanted her any way that he could take the girl for himself, really.

To claim her fully as his victim, and she would be his. As Everett continued having these wild thoughts of the Muggle Barreau girl, he knew it was the inner beast that lay caged within the confines of his chest, threatening to come loose.

Everett felt his jaw lock and tighten, and he ground his teeth in anger, his green eyes flashing indignantly as they stayed locked on the front door of his safe house, having Disapparated to the location, though he could swear he saw the girl in front of him.

She really did have a petite, curvaceous figure. No girl was she, not anymore. Her large liquid blue eyes held such an intelligence and serenity that Everett felt like it had been impossible for him not to be held prisoner by them.

Which would explain his momentarily lapse of inability to form a cohesive sentence around the Barreau girl.

Her cheekbones weren't especially high, and her nose was a little too long to be perfect, but there was an undeniable symmetry to Renee Barreau's delicate features, like that of a pretty red rose, just waiting to bloom, to fully become…a woman.

Perhaps that was what had Everett so captivated.

The young blonde woman's smooth dry skin despite the harsh currents of the ferocious autumnal breeze was dotted with a light smattering of freckles about her nose.

Her delicate eyebrows curved in swooping arcs over those bewitching eyes and her small button nose complemented her wide forehead and rather blunt chin.

These features would not turn heads, or make anyone look twice, they were quite normal among the women in the Barreau family.

No…it was the girl's eyes that were her true prize, what held Everett so captivated, wanting to know her secrets.

What secrets would he uncover, as he looked behind them? He couldn't wait to find out.

Her eyes were like the stars in the night sky, the way they drew unsuspecting men like Everett in to explore the swirling depths of emotions held in her depths.

The black of Renee Elizabeth Barreau's pupil was surrounded by a ring of jagged silver fire swallowed by sapphire blue.

At one glance, the girl's eyes merely shone, but if you dared to look closer like he had done so earlier, and just like he was doing now, shrouded in the shadow of the bush behind which he had taken refuge, Everett could see the sadness of heartbreak, the joy of love (at that he scoffed again), the hope of a better future for herself, the pain of sorrow at losing not only her home but her family as well, and the fire of a spirit that even Everett knew the girl would not give up.

At least…not willingly.

It had been all he could do not to ravage himself at her when he'd first laid eyes upon the fair-skinned beauty with the locks of hair that looked as though they had been kissed by the sun itself.

Renee was a beautiful young girl. And after he was finished with the bitch, she would be a woman. It was rumored that the girl was still a virgin, though he wondered if it were true.

He couldn't help how he was. It was far too late for a man like him to change. Not now.

Growing up, Everett had given his father everything a son could possibly give his parent, and only wished he could do more to please. Now he had to know that the person he idolized never truly existed.

That their life of the endless political meetings, talk of siring heirs to keep the family lineage going was never what it appeared to be, that his father lived with festering anger in his heart like a wound.

Conversations were just talking to Everett, competitions to him.

Nothing more, and nothing less. Gregory saw his bastard son suffering, his mental health in decline as young lad and he had made goddamn sure that Everett had fallen into that pit, the only decorations in the pit his own godforsaken claw markings from his nails on the walls he could not scale.

Now Father had the gall—the audacity—to claim that his methods growing up didn't drive his bastard son mad, that it was just 'how he was,' and there could be nothing in all Great Britain that would cure of him of this so-called horrible affliction, this unquenchable bloodlust.

Gregory liked to think of himself as Everett's savior, but his son knew the truth.

How Father cycled from abuse to reconciliation and then back to abuse, to build him up just enough for the next stress-relieving power trip take down that usually involved beating his own son growing up.

But Everett had news for his father. His heart had long since been hardened, and the beating corded muscle within his chest had walls. He had walls against Father and any other human and there was no way to break down that wall.

Knowledge can indeed be power if you so let it, and Everett had, in fact, let that be so.

Everett furrowed his brow into a frown at that rumor, wondering if it was in fact, true.

He knew she had once been dating John Newall, that lawyer that he had killed and stuffed into an old wine barrel.

_John Newall won't be found for a while_ , Everett thought and released a low growl from the back of his throat at the thought of that creature who was less than half a man taking this woman, this celestial-like being who had for reasons unknown somehow managed to snare him in a net of intrigue like one of those mystical sirens of the sea he had heard as a child growing up.

He would just have to make it quite plain and perfectly clear to any man that Renee was not available for the taking.

That _she_ was _his_.

And anyone who would dare try to take the dog's prized bone from him would find themselves without their tongues on the morrow, their own hearts carved from his chest with his own two bare hands.

"Get a hold of yourself," he whisper-hissed through clenched teeth as he stalked his way up to the door.

His mind felt as if stone were coursing through his veins instead of blood. He moved to open the door, but before he could, he caught sight of his reflection in a puddle of rainwater, and blanched, looking caught off guard at the man he saw staring back at him.

The shadow of the caged beast within his eyes. He felt his stomach lurch and he thought he might vomit.

There was the smallest fraction of Everett's mind that knew what he was and hated it. Disgust.

Yes, that's what he felt for himself. Disgust. Total disgust with himself, at who he really was, what he represented.

Everett felt his shoulders slump and his blue eyes cast downward in a mournful gaze, his handsome face held a forlorn, worn expression now.

His mouth was set in a semi-pout as he remained alone.

It would be easy enough to claim her for himself. A few sweet words whispered into the ear of his little latest plaything, his new victim—well, soon to be, that is, but…and this was the part he was struggling to accept the most, that he had seen something in the Barreau's woman's eyes that could only be described as hatred.

A look that he had not seen in a woman before. At least, not directed towards him. Most of the witches in Azkaban Prison were absolutely terrified of the now-former licensed counselor of Azkaban, and it showed in their eyes, their movements, how they averted their gazes whenever they were forced to be in the same room as Everett.

_But not this little dove_ , his conscience offered unhelpfully. _There had been that look in the lobby earlier this afternoon when she arrived_.

Renee Barreau had been rumored to be quite the beautiful girl but seeing her up close and personal as he had earlier only reinforced that truth in Everett's mind. The woman was of fair complexion, her blonde hair cut short. A cute oval face. She had the kindest pair of brilliant blue eyes, trimmed by long gorgeous lashes. Lovely eyes, innocent and pure, yet somehow gentle, that always held a tiny warmth within them, of which Everett knew he wanted it for himself.

If it could be made possible to bottle that warmth and hoard it within a glass vial that he could keep in his pocket, then he would do it. Florid cheeks and flawlessly sculpted pink, luscious lips, as if crafted by angels and the gods themselves.

Standing this close to her as he had been only hours ago, he could see Renee's lips clearly, glistening attractively with a light salve coating that added a further sheen to her already healthy lips. Everett imagined biting her mouth until he drew blood and then sucking it from the wound.

All these features sat together on a delicate almost angelic face.

Her disappearance from her safe house once he took care of Sirius Black would surely be the final knife, the killing blow to Nymphadora Tonks Lupin's heart.

And Renee Barreau would be all _his_.

Oh, such sweet, sweet bliss…


	22. Chapter 22

The abduction of a little child by a complete and total stranger is any parents' worse nightmare, and Everett, in the midst of stalking six-year-old William 'Billy' Barreau understood this all too well. Statistically speaking, however, it was an unlikely occurrence.

Children were more at risk of harm and neglect and abuse from a family member or family friend behind closed doors, and while the outside world might seem threatening to them, the truth remained was, that most strangers, to the naked eye, at least, were decent people. But home could be the most dangerous place of all, oh, yes, something that Everett was all too familiar with growing up.

He moved, shrouded in the shadows of Echo Alley, the very same place where he had falsely framed Auror Nymphadora Tonks, as he followed the Muggle woman's kid brother on his route home from where the boy attended state primary school, maintaining a constant watch, or as Moody, the Auror he had attacked yesterday and had grown familiar with over the years would say, 'maintaining constant vigilance' on this last piece of the missing puzzle. His key to getting Renee Barreau out in the open.

Everett was no fool. He knew there was little chance of snatching the bitch while she was under Sirius Black's protection, but if he could lure her away, then she was _his_.

And he knew just the way to do it. Everett blinked and forced his attentions to return back to his newest target.

Renee's little brother, Billy Barreau, was walking slowly, at a snail's pace, blissfully unaware of the danger he was now in.

Occasionally, the boy kicked at the dusty, disgusting cobblestoned street beneath his Oxford shoes. Everett, who treaded far more carefully so as to not leave any evidence behind, could hear the scuff as the kid moved each time.

And Everett's movements were silent. _Silent_.

He made no sound at all. The sky above their heads was dull and grievous, cloudy, with the promise of a potential storm.

As Everett followed the boy, he knew that the children in this part of town, and even the adults, were warned by the local Muggle authorities against traversing down Echo Alley, but children had a habit of ignoring the advice of the adults, for the adults are often invisible to the young, such as he was now.

Everett knew more than he let out about Billy Barreau. He had studied Renee and her family quite carefully. Her younger brother performed remarkably poorly in school, academically and socially. Was something of a loner, not good at the whole 'making friends' bit, something that Everett found he related to.

Billy was well behind his peers in reading, writing, his math. His clothes were tattered hand-me-downs, and the flat that he and Renee lived in was little more than a tumbledown, decrepit place. In the manner he was currently exhibiting, Billy seemed perhaps a little bit too grown-up for his ripe age of six.

Displaying resentment and anger towards the rest of the world. In a few years, the boy would be perceived as a bully and a troublemaker, but for now, Billy was still young enough for folks on the streets and in his life to forgive his disruptive ways.

_He doesn't mean it. It's not the boy's fault_ , they all said. Billy had not reached the point in his little life where he could be considered solely responsible for his actions, and as a consequence, Renee Elizabeth Barreau bore the brunt of it all.

They blamed her, as his older sister, for failing the boy. And oh, she would blame herself, once she learned he was missing.

Everett stood in the shadows, staring at the forlorn boy who had no idea that he was about to go missing and would never return home. It left him feeling with an amazing conflict, yes.

A brand new injury, a brand new humiliation, if you will. A part of him felt shattered the other day when he had taken the water cup from Renee Barreau, and he did not want to hurt the bitch, not really, but the carnal instinct older than man itself drove him to kill. But at the same time, he derived a feeling of satisfaction by using the Muggle way to take a life. Triumph.

It was not something that he could articulate, and his hands began to tremble with rage. He wanted to kill the girl. Again, and again, to berate his favorite girl at the Broken Spoon Café for daring to look at other men in what he believed were odious terms, yes.

He wanted to bash her skull to the floor, to hear her bones crack before finally taking pity on the girl and putting the young blonde restaurant manager out of her misery with a well-aimed Killing Curse. Nerves were beginning to tear his psyche.

Excitement budding in his chest, he could not really remember the last time he felt this way over stalking someone.

_Plunk_. A loud noise in an otherwise silent alleyway. The boy had picked up a stone and was chucking it along the brick wall.

Billy picked up a second rock and repeated the action, missing this time, though when he hefted back his arm and threw the pebble as far as he could, he succeeded in breaking a bottle.

He seemed to like this little game that he was playing, Everett noticed. And he, as a licensed counselor, could understand why. This casual destruction he was currently exhibiting was very much like the increasing aggression Billy Barreau was showing in his classes, to his mates and his teacher.

It was his pitiful attempt to make his own mark on the world, his own impact on a world that otherwise remained blissfully (and purposefully) unaware of his mundane existence.

This mood the young Barreau boy was in stemmed from a desire to be seen. To be noticed to be loved. Everett should know.

He himself and his own son when Bryce had grown up exhibited the same behaviors, once. Because that was what any child wanted, deep in the recesses of their hearts, to be loved.

Everett felt his heart thrum against his chest, beating more quickly than before, and it ached at the thought of this one reminded him of his own son, which made what he had to do in order to get his point across that Renee Barreau was now his, not Sirius's, hurt even worse, and just for a second, a pang of remorse tugged at his heartstrings, causing his stomach to give a lurch.

Silent, he stepped out from behind the corner he had ducked behind, and then he whispered the boy's name into the shell of his ear. He snatched the boy up and Disapparated with him before Billy Barreau even had a moment to turn his head and scream.

* * *

Well over a few miles away, right at the moment that six-year-old Billy Barreau was being killed and no one knew it yet, several miles into her journey following her early release from Azkaban Prison for good behavior, twenty-six-year-old Cate Greengrass decided to give up her former life and start fresh and new. At least, that's what she _told_ herself.

She furrowed her delicately shaped eyebrows in a frown, wondering just how easy it would be for her to get a good job in Diagon Alley, with her record, if anybody would hire a convict like her.

The young witch made her choice as she huddled against the bitter cold of the downtown bustling streets of London, England, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, her wand safely stowed in her back pants pocket, regulations of elementary wand safety be Merlin-damned, and her little black purse that admittedly wasn't very big but just small enough to suit Cate's minimalistic needs slung over her arm.

She had dressed this morning in a pair of black flared fit trousers and a short-sleeved pale pink velvet pleated neck top, black sneakers with no laces—clothing she had last worn almost a year ago now, clothing that had fit her last September when Kingsley Shacklebolt had arrested her in Knockturn Alley for her potions in the middle of a sale with none other than Mundungus Fletcher, the git, though admittedly, one of her better clients.

This morning, however, her shirt practically hung off her and the waistband of her pants hung loose, rendering the released prisoner of Azkaban wishing she'd thought to wear a belt at the time of her incarceration. It took Cate Greengrass a moment to realize it was not weight she'd lost during the last several months, but rather, her pride, especially around _him_. _Everett_.

Just the man's name plastered under her skin as a quiet vibration and made her skin crawl. She couldn't believe it.

A cold chill wafted down her spine as Cate recollected all of the times that she had spent in the man's office one-on-one with the handsome man, where he could have done any number of things to her.

_Or to Tonks_ , she thought, furrowing her brows in a frown. The fact that the old Auror, Moody, one she recognized and had seen in the Warden's office shortly before Everett had murdered her, hadn't been able to subdue him, was disconcerting, to say the very least.

The grizzled old scarred Auror who was more scar and prosthetic limbs than flesh these days was supposed to be one of the very best, and if he hadn't been able to stop the creep escaping… then no one could. They were royally screwed.

"Darling," a man's voice called out, gruff, baritone, and authoritative. Whoever he was sounded on the verge of impatience, and Cate quickened her pace down the sidewalk.

She glanced over her shoulder, seeing no one else behind her. Whoever they were, they must be talking to someone else.

"Greengrass, wait a moment. I know you have nowhere to be, so a moment of your time, if you so kindly please, darlin'," a man's voice called out, smoother than silk and languid, rendering Cate's blood to ice in her veins, and she knew the chill that wafted down her back had nothing to do with the freezing cold as she clutched herself, wishing she had a jacket.

Cate _didn't_ please, as it happened, but she could not very well start screaming at the top of her lungs at the very man who could, with just a quick Patronus, have her back in front of the Wizengamot for sentencing to turn around and go back to prison.

"Merlin's left nutsack," she swore underneath her breath, slowly turning at the waist, feeling what little color was left drain in her face as she turned to look at the newfound arrival in the eye, and immediately wished she hadn't, already knowing it was him. "Mr. Moody, sir, what can I do for you?" Cate grumbled darkly, feeling her pink-painted fingernails curl tightly over the strap of her little black purse, her wand hand lingering on the handle of her wand, hoping he wouldn't start spouting nonsense about elementary wand safety. Cate inwardly groaned at that.

Cate lifted her chin to meet Alastor 'Broody Moody's' gaze and was trying hard not to stare at his scarred nose (what was left of it, that is) but she kept finding her eyes had diverted to it.

Chunks of flesh were missing, and to say nothing of the Auror's blue magical swiveling eye that, for some strange reason, had gone still and was staring straight ahead, boring into her.

Cate flinched, though dared not avert her gaze first, though she was beginning to feel a bit perturbed by the Auror's silence.

Not to mention, his unnecessary staring of her.

If there was something that Tonks's coworker wanted of her, then, why did he not just come outright and say it? Sensing her unease, he let out a haggard sigh and carded his fingers through his tuft of gnarled, matted hair, congealed with dried blood from the attack. Clearly, he hadn't valued cleaning up before seeking her out, it seemed.

"Information," Alastor Moody barked hoarsely by way of response. "You know the Morning Killer. Who he is. He was your own damned _counselor_ , for god's sake! I want to know more. Where you think he might go. I know for a fact you've studied his movements. Thanks to your bogus potions that taste like goblin piss, you have connections on the streets of both Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. Much as I hate to admit it, but Auror Tonks and I need your help. I won't have my protégé risking her life on the line again to bring this pervert to justice. She just got out of prison, as you very well know, and I would see her spend this time at home with her husband and newborn baby and take the rest of her maternity leave. Which leaves me with no other choice but to come to you. _You're_ the best link our office has at nabbing him and any information, no matter how minuscule would help us out. Prior to her untimely death, Miranda told me _you_ knew him best."

Cate blinked, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing from the grizzled old Auror, who was proceeding to stare at her in a melancholic manner, or at least, his one good blue eye was.

To say it creeped her out was a gross understatement, and it did not stop her from furrowing her brows in puzzlement and a slight suspicion. "Why are you suggesting this to me specifically?"

There just had to be another reason. Out of all of those in Everett's life who knew him best, she was not one of them, no.

No, there was more to it than that, Cate sensed, but whatever his reasons were, Alastor Moody was choosing to keep mum about them, his scarred lips, what was left of them, remained tight-lipped and he did not seem to be in a mood to divulge any more information, for he merely glowered at Cate.

"Because this is the only other damned way, Merlin damn it. I know of no one else to ask and more to the point besides, I can think of no one better suited to help Shacklebolt and I bring this man to justice to answer for the people he's killed, the lives he's taken and countless others destroyed. I won't have Tonks putting herself at risk, not with her new baby to care for, and _you_ …"

He hesitated, biting down on his bottom lip.

"You're a pretty face, Miss Greengrass." Ignoring Cate's look of flustered outrage, the grizzled Auror pressed onward, continuing to speak as though his quip against Cate's beauty had not angered the young witch. "You've said it yourself, Everett is reportedly fond of pretty faces, and I've not forgotten the allegations against him for the attack against Rena Lestrange, though Andromeda's cousin was never able to prove it," he sighed, pinching at the bridge of his scarred nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Whereas other girls would never manage to get a foot near him should you happen to encounter him, I think you might be able to do it. I was told that the man likes you well enough. To the best of my knowledge, the man does not know that you are aware of his _other_ identity," Mad-Eye Moody grumbled darkly under his breath. "You would be reporting to me should you see him, but of course, this all comes at a price. I'm sure you don't need _me_ to tell you that, Miss Greengrass. You're of age. Surely, you understand the risks."

That she did. More so than Moody understood. She did not mistake the steel in the man's voice. He did not want any tricks or acts of deceit coming from a recently released inmate of Azkaban.

Cate hesitated, pondering her options. What Moody was asking of her was incredibly dangerous, not to mention stupid.

Everett was a smart man. Surely, he would be privy to the fact that the Auror Office was now actively searching for him, now that they knew his true name, but… he had killed so many innocent lives, and unless the Auror Office could stop him, the endless cycle of bloodshed and violence would continue onward.

And it had to stop, and it might as well start with her.

"I'll help, but…" Cate trailed off, running her tongue along the top wall of her cheek as she looked towards Moody with curiosity brimming in her eyes. "What's in it for _me_? I help you nab Everett, he's off the streets, but what do I get for risking my own neck for your office when _you_ couldn't even nab him the last six months?!" she asked, feeling her temper surge to the surface.

A fair enough question and Cate Greengrass could tell the Auror had anticipated the young witch would ask such a thing.

He rolled his eyes, both of them, as he dipped into the pocket of his tattered brown trench coat and tossed a bag of what felt like several thousand Galleons to her, much to her surprise.

Cate blinked owlishly down at the pouch of coins in her hands, shifting her weight before unzipping the little black purse that she had enchanted with an Extension Charm and plunking it into her bag. Moody snorted and shook his head in mock disappointment, as though he had expected more from Cate.

"Enough gold to start a new life for yourself. Make some changes. Settle down somewhere kinda quiet, forget about things you aren't too proud of," Moody muttered in a voice that seeped with experience, and Cate found herself curious despite her initial disinterest, wanting nothing to do with the Ministry of Magic.

Alastor Moody fixed Cate Greengrass with a quizzical little stare that Cate was not entirely sure what to make of and nodded.

"The Muggles have a saying. That the grass is greener on the other side," he barked, ignoring the flinch Cate gave at the man's jab on her surname. "It isn't too late for you, Miss Greengrass. You help us, and I can ensure you leave your old life behind. Wipe your ledger clean of all the people you've wronged. Start over."

Cate nodded numbly, feeling her shoulders slump in defeat.

That was good enough for her. "I'll help," she muttered in a soft voice, lifting her gaze, and jutting out her chin slightly defiantly as she looked at Mad-Eye Moody, as though silently challenging the brooding man to question why she was helping.

The corners of Auror Moody's scarred mouth twitched, and Cate couldn't quite be sure, but she swore the man almost smiled.

_Almost_. Though Cate had no time to ponder it as he spoke.

"Good. Well, let's go if we're goin'." Moody paused, his magical eye swiveling wildly in its artificial socket as his gaze lingered upon Cate's shivering form in her clothes and her peaky, thin appearance. He shook his head in disgust. "C'mon. Follow me. I'll take you to The Leaky Cauldron, buy you a drink, get you something to eat. You look like you haven't eaten a good square meal in months. If you're helping us, the least I can do is buy you lunch and you can tell me what you know of the man over a meal."

"Wait!" Cate cried, flinging out her arm and her fingers curling around the sleeve of the Auror's brown trench coat as the grizzled old Auror had been about to turn on the heel of his boots and Disapparate to Diagon Alley towards The Leaky Cauldron.

The desperation and urgency in Miss Greengrass's tone gave Moody pause, and he slowly swiveled his head back around to his left to regard the young witch who had been Nymphadora's cellmate. "Not there, he won't be there, you'd be wasting time," she explained, sounding suddenly out of breath as her eyes widened as Moody's expression darkened as he looked at her.

Moody stared, his expression remaining mostly impassive, though Cate could have sworn she saw the briefest flickers of admiration at her keen intelligence and insight dart through his one good eye as he regarded Greengrass in silence where he stood.

Cate swallowed down hard past the lump in her throat.

"I know a place. I know where he'll go," she whispered, holding out her arm for the aging old man to take. "Follow me."

If Moody was at all surprised by the sudden shift in Cate's countenance, the veteran Auror was quite good at hiding it.

"Lead the way then, Greengrass," he barked gruffly by way of response and latched onto Cate's arm. Cate silently nodded, signaling she caught his silent glance and understood the risks.

Cate slowly closed her eyes and exhaled slow and soft through her flaring nostrils as the visions of Everett's favorite café flitted to the front of her mind. She'd been there once or twice prior to her arrest, it was a quaint little Muggle joint near their Muggle train stations and had the best coffee in all of London.

The young witch as the pair Disapparated from their spot on the sidewalk did not even have to think about where they were heading. She knew. He would be there, Cate was certain of this.

They were going to the Broken Spoon Café.


	23. Chapter 23

It's early yet, and the machines behind the counter of the Broken Egg Café were still yet to warm, so Renee pondered this as she tried to wrack her brain for how she was going to explain her supervised return to work to the two employees that she managed, though the cook that worked in back, she knew, was apt to not really give a crap, and the only other waitress that worked under her, it was her day off, besides.

Her tired eyes flitted towards Sirius, sitting alone in the corner, his hands wound tightly around a cup of piping tea.

She did not know how long he had been sitting there, nonchalantly and discreetly keeping a watchful eye over her, under the older wizard's orders until they nabbed the creep that was rumored to be coming after her, though Sirius had promised the two of them could stop by her flat so she could at least tell Billy and Mrs. Jenkins that she was otherwise safe.

Renee pondered this as she stood behind the corner, her elbows leaning against the counter for support, her head resting in her hands as she thought that he was here for _her_.

She glanced down at the chocolate muffin on a plate that she had prepared for him, and the cup of hot, fresh coffee in her other hands. Renee figured since he was going through the painstaking effort of being forced to guard her, it was the least that she could do for him if he had to sit in the same position for hours on end, to provide for him what little sustenance she could manage.

Not that it mattered much. Black had not _asked_ for this, to be stuck on surveillance duty, being forced to babysit her for hours on end, only letting her out of his sight to use the restroom. She sighed.

He would be sitting alone at the corner table looking like he was thoroughly pissed off, as though he would rather be anywhere else but here in this, ah, what did he call it?

"A Muggle joint," Renee whispered, her curiosity intrigued. That's what he had said people like him called establishments, places of business that weren't run by non-magic folk like her. The dark-haired, handsome bloke assigned as her personal guard was admittedly something of a surprise to her.

She had expected the other day an adverse reaction towards her apology, for the way she had treated him, yelling at him, though, if Renee were being honest with herself, he was the one who had started the whole mess, not her. She wasn't sure she would be so forgiving if she had been in his shoes.

But Sirius Black had been cautious around her, careful in his movements and soft in his speech when he spoke.

He had been more than patient with her when she fumbled through her own apology, more so than most. The man had a gentle streak nestled deep within him, completely unexpected, though she supposed she got it from Mr. Lupin, who held a quiet, reserved, polite demeanor.

Though as she thought over the strange shift in Sirius Black's behavior towards her, Renee had forgotten her initial anger towards the wizard for holding her poor throat hostage.

She furrowed her brows into a frown as she thought of Everett.

" _Fuck_ ," she whispered hoarsely under her breath as her lips pursed into a thin line. She couldn't bloody _believe_ it.

The man had come into her establishment time and time again, always polite, but now, she was having trouble getting Everett out of her head, and though she had never particularly liked the way the man's eyes had crawled all over her backside, he had never been unkind to her. Always polite. She had been somewhat fascinated before, and even more so since she had given him that cup of water from behind, not knowing at the time, it was him.

She shuddered, the thought plastering under her skin and making it shudder with revulsion at what she had done. Renee had been _kind_ to a murdering piece of _filth_.

Renee did not know what she could do in order to help Tonks and the others apprehend the man, but she knew he had to be stopped. The more and more she searched, the more frustrated she grew.

Renee felt her blood boil as she thought about that asshole, hoping one of the other wizards got him.

As she strode out from behind the counter, a cup of coffee and muffin in her hand to give to Sirius, whose face, she could tell from the reflection of the café's window, held a forlorn look and he looked, for whatever reason, quite miserable, her mind melted back to thoughts of the Morning Killer. Everett. His eyes had been so dark.

It wasn't even the color that made them so dark, it was what lay just underneath of them.

The relative blankness that rested underneath seemed a cover for the raging sea of emotions that she knew to lay just beneath the surface, and it was up to the man to bring it out. Renee gave her head a curt shake to clear it and cautiously approached Sirius where he stood, glancing down at the small muffin on the plate in her hand and cup of fresh coffee in the offer.

"Pound for your thoughts, Black, what's going on in that head of yours? I've interrupted a deep thought, haven't I? I can see it growing smaller in your eyes," she spoke up quietly, announcing her presence and not wanting to startle the man who seemed to be deep in midst of contemplation. He blinked, startled at the interruption, and looked up.

The corners of his mouth twitched in confusion, but he smiled. Her cheeks burned as she realized she had been staring at the man for longer than was appropriate, her blush intensifying when she realized she had just been asked a question.

"I—I'm sorry," she murmured. "What did you say?" she asked as she slid across the seat of the booth next to him. "I—I guess I, um, spaced out for a second," she confessed.

Sirius waved away her apology with a dismissive wave of his hand as if he didn't care about that and wasn't bothered.

"I asked if you heard anything from your neighbor yet. Your brother, did he make it back safely from school?" Sirius frowned slightly as he glanced at the coffee and chocolate muffin that Renee, without a word, slid across the smooth surface of the table, silently beckoning with her eyes to eat.

"Not yet." Renee frowned in turn at Black's question. She had used the phone on the wall to call Mrs. Jenkins' flat, hoping she had seen Billy safely home from the primary school that he attended, but no answer from her.

Sirius's brows knitted together as he pretended to look out the window, but was in actuality, studying the blonde. He would be the first to admit, he did not know what to say in face of her concerns. She tried her best to hide it, but he could see her reflection in the glass from the window how forlorn and miserable Renee Barreau looked.

Renee was losing hope that she would ever be allowed to return home, and there was not much he could do for her other than serve as her appointed guard and protect her.

"Maybe your neighbor took him out for a walk or something. Went to go get ice cream or something," he said, hoping his words would be of some small comfort to her.

Renee nodded. Her mouth, however, was still set in a tense frown. "You're probably right. I hope you are, anyway."

He merely grunted wordlessly in response, parting his lips open as if he looked as though he wanted to say something, but must have thought better of it and closed his mouth and instead looked out towards the window. Sirius tried his bloody best not to stare at anyone in particular as the pair of them sat together, alone, and for now, the only other patrons in Renee's café.

Though he was not quite sure he would ever fully get used to it again, being able to walk the streets as a free man. Even just three years ago, they would have looked upon him with animosity, and some witches and wizards who knew his face from the 'Wanted' posters of his twelve-year stint in Azkaban, still held eyes of hidden suspicion towards him, but on the whole, the few wizards and witches that did pass by outside the café seemed genuinely interested in what he, Sirius Black, was doing with a young Muggle woman more than anything else.

The witches, Sirius noticed, were eyeing Renee with what looks he could only perceive as venomous, anger, and envy. Sirius focused on whether or not he had ever been in a situation more awkward than this.

His pale gray eyes slid instinctively towards Renee, who was pretending to join him in looking outside through the café's window, but he saw quite easily through its reflection that Barreau was staring at him.

Renee stiffened, her shoulders rising slightly before quickly looking away, furrowing her eyebrows in the process as she began absentmindedly picking at her nails' cuticles.

"For me?" he asked, turning his head back towards the muffin resting idly on the plate in front of him and giving a jerk towards the food and the coffee, and, without waiting for the young blonde restaurant manager to answer him, broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it in his mouth.

The reaction, Renee thought, was immensely satisfying as he made a contented noise in the back of his throat that sounded rather suggestive, causing Renee to blink owlishly at the display of appreciation towards her food like he was in the throes of ecstasy.

"Merlin, this is the _best_ chocolate muffin I've had in…a long time. Complements to the chef," he muttered appreciatively, inclining his head towards Renee, who blushed. "Lupin's going to _love_ this place," he complimented, taking another bite of his muffin. "He's a huge chocoholic," he explained, seeing Renee's confused expression, and she smiled. Sirius blinked, before realizing he had been staring at the young Muggle for longer than he deemed appropriate.

It had been hard not to. Since her insistence that she be allowed to return to work, despite the fact a killer on the loose remained at large and was after her, he'd barely said a word to her, lost in the throes of his own mind, so he had to rely on his vision to see how Renee was taking all of this. It was a lot.

Seeing the Muggle woman staring at him so critically, Sirius felt for the first time in a long time, a desire to be approved of, and he couldn't explain it even if he wanted to.

For once, his appearance was crucial and much to his dismay and confusion, Black found himself sitting straighter, nervous in front of this woman, which he thought unfounded.

"Renee," he blurted out because he could stand the silence any longer. "I understand all of this is confusing and overwhelming to you. I don't know how much any of the others, Lupin, Hermione, have told you, but I just thought…considering the way I treated you the night you fell through my ceiling that you would not want to speak to me, and I thought, well, you would be warranted in that decision, and I wouldn't blame you if that was your choice. But my concern over your well-being is sincere. Will you let me in?"

"What do you mean?" Renee glared at Sirius, narrowing her crystalline blue eyes in the process as she reached up a hand to tuck a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. "Sirius?"

"She _speaks_!" Sirius uttered, unable to help the crooked smile beginning to curl at the edges of his lips, thinking that this was perhaps the longest (and friendliest) conversation the two of them had exchanged thus far in their acquaintance.

Renee blushed and purposely looked away from Sirius and out the window as the sun threw beams of light down into the window which shone through and onto Renee's face, only to reveal her blue eyes were glimmering with un-shed tears.

Sirius watched, unable to explain away the churning, swooping feeling in the pit of his stomach, his heart sinking as he heard the girl sniff and brush away her tears gathering with a well-practiced flick of her finger, and avoided Sirius's gaze.

Now, he struggled to find something to say that would put her mind at ease. It might have been easier to comfort the woman if he knew the circumstances of what was on her mind, aside from worrying over if her brother made it home.

"Renee?" Just hearing her name from his lips was enough to inspire a response, as the restaurant manager sanguinely lifted her head and swiveled her gaze around to look at him.

She let him see her face, red-rimmed eyes, cracked at the irises, ashen complexion, dried tear tracts, all of this.

"You can't know for sure if your brother is… _gone_ ," he finished lamely, not wanting to speak the troublesome thought. "Whatever happens, you're going to be okay, because I, as your guard, will not let anything happen to you. You hear me?" he emphasized, desperate to make the girl understand.

Of course, he could very well be lying through his teeth, unable to know that for sure, either, but he was certain he could not allow the young woman, with what she knew of Everett, to live without a roof over her head and without any protection. No. He owed it to her after the way he'd treated her, to protect her. He had given Dumbledore his very word.

Blinking away the onset of salty, briny tears, Renee managed a little smile.

"You're right. I—I shouldn't think the worst. Thanks…" She wiped at her cheeks and took in a deep, shuddering but a calming breath. "I need to get hold of myself."

Before Sirius could reply, she reached across the table and swiped a chunk of chocolate muffin off his plate and popped it into her mouth, standing up and brushing her hands on the seat of her black jeans. "Let's take a walk."

Sirius blinked, startled. " _Now_?" he protested, glancing wildly around, though seemed to relax into the idea as he came to realize he was virtually the only patron in the café.

Renee stared at the man as though he had sprouted antlers out of the top of his head.

"Yes, _now_ ," she murmured, shaking her head in minor disbelief, as though hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "What _good_ is being the owner of this joint if I can't close up and actually _use_ my lunch break? I could use the fresh air."

"Ah, s—sure," Sirius stammered, biting the wall of his cheeks as he inwardly cursed himself for being so nervous.

With that, she nodded, taking a moment to dart around the front counter of the café to secure the register, grab her black purse from underneath the counter and her keys.

Without even waiting for the man to offer, though he would have if she had given him the chance, Renee linked her arm with his once they were outside the restaurant as she had locked it and flipped the sign to ' **CLOSED'** and let out a sigh.

"Let's take a walk. I could use the air. You could, too," she added, quirking a suspicious brow towards the darkened purple circles under the man's eyes. "C'mon," Renee said.

Their connected reflections danced off the surface of the River Thames. Renee gave Sirius's arm a little light squeeze, almost unconsciously, and it was hard for the man to ignore the swooping sensation in the pit of his nauseous stomach.

It was the same feeling, that same rush of exhilaration he got whenever he had the rare occasion to rush into battle. The last time he had felt this was the Department of Mysteries. And try as he might force the feeling away, to push it to the brink of his mind, it only intensified as Renee winked at him.

As if to say that, since stepping foot outside the restaurant, she was all right now. Sirius blanched, thinking about pulling away from the young blonde but couldn't bring himself to do it. Despite everything, he didn't want to let go.

As they eventually made their way down a side-street away from the riverbank, Barreau held fast to his arm the entire way. A couple of bystanders, a few here and there that Sirius was quick to recognize, Ministry employees on their lunch break, shot the pair of them curious looks, which made his face flush high with color, a mixture of shyness and pride.

_She's just being nice_ , Sirius reminded himself. _That's all_.

"Black? What's going on with you? You okay?" Renee was watching him out of the corner of her eye with a furrowed brow and a slight frown. Sirius's face flushed a bright pink as he stumbled and stammered over his words before cursing.

"Fine," he barked hoarsely. "Why?" he managed to ask.

"You're looking at me funnily," was all Barreau answered, still noticing him staring at her for longer than was appropriate.

He wasn't sure if this Muggle had perhaps some untapped magical potential within her, after all. Maybe she was a Seer, a mind reader, with her uncanny ability to read him, or if he was just that godawful at hiding his thoughts.

How the bloody hell was he going to smooth talk his way out of this one?

Would he tell Renee that he was bothered by his sudden growing attraction to her because he knew it was hopeless? Insist that he didn't give a goddamn if she didn't feel the beginnings of…whatever ' _this'_ was and have her pity him instead? An escaped convict, lonely after so many years?

For the sake of his sworn duty to protect her, their partnership, however temporary and reluctant it was, Sirius forced himself to push his doubts away and reassure her.

"Fine, Renee. I promise. Just a little lost in thought." He gave her manicured hand coiled around the bicep of his arm a reassuring pat and shot her what he hoped was a kindly smile.

Renee Barreau's hardened expression softened immediately at the man's surprisingly gentle touch, and Sirius swore it was his imagination, but he thought he saw a light pink blush flushing the young blonde Muggle woman's face.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, the bright-sky blue cobalt color darkening, almost cerulean in color as she wriggled her eyebrows in what Sirius thought was an endearing way, and as they looked at one another, something unknown flickered through Barreau's eyes. Sirius couldn't quite put a name to whatever emotion it was, but what he did know, was that she was looking rather disturbed suddenly.

"Fine," she muttered, her brow furrowing. "If I could speak freely with you? Can I talk to you?' she asked gravely.

He nodded, not sure what she was going to say, though before she could speak, a loud, all-too-familiar _crack_! rent the silent air, and as Sirius and Renee collectively whirled around to face the newcomer, the muscles in their shoulders tensing, the pair relaxed as they saw it was only Alastor Moody and the girl, Tonks's cellmate from earlier, both of them were looking surprised to see the pair of them outside of the café, but pleased.

"Good," barked Moody gruffly. "I hoped you'd be here, Barreau. Name's Moody, this is Cate Greengrass. Now that we know each other, we aren't strangers anymore. You gonna let us in? The kid over here needs food. I'm buyin'," he snapped in a gruff voice that matched the rest of his appearance.

Renee's quizzical gaze flitted towards the girl who looked not much older than her and Tonks. She did indeed look like she needed feeding up, Renee thought, furrowing her brows.

"Sure," she murmured, relinquishing her arm from around Sirius's, not seeing the dark-haired man's look of dawning outrage and annoyance as Black shot a withering glower Moody's way, though the grizzled old Auror missed it.

Renee shifted the strap of her purse to her other arm to ease the ache in her shoulder, rolling her neck to crack it as she led the way down the bustling sidewalk, weaving in between the people, wondering how many were like her, normal, and how many weren't. How many were magical.

She supposed it was something she wouldn't ever get used to. Renee glanced sideways out of the corner of her eyes at the new girl, at Cate, who seemed awkward and uncomfortable, as though she wanted to be anywhere else.

Renee didn't bother to stifle down the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. "How do a cup of coffee and a chocolate muffin sound, Miss Greengrass?" she asked, smiling at her when the young witch nodded eagerly.

She walked alongside Cate Greengrass in an effort to put the girl her age somewhat at ease in whatever minuscule way she could, though she was completely oblivious to Black's look of anger.

Sirius watched his own feet carry him back towards The Broken Spoon Café, his heart sinking with each of his steps.

As he walked alongside Moody, trying his hardest to ignore Tonks's mentor's magical eye practically piercing a hole in the side of his skull, he tried to ignore his disappointment that Renee Barreau did not take his arm again for the rest of the walk back to her business to let Cate inside.


	24. Chapter 24

Renee couldn't take it anymore, not knowing. There was still at least an hour of sunlight left, but the young blonde snuck out of Grimmauld Place following the closing of her café for the day, where she'd sat with the Auror Moody and his new contact, where they'd sat over God knew how many cups of coffee, and Renee and Sirius had joined the pair and demolished at least two more of Renee's chocolate muffins that her place was getting kind of famous for, though Cate Greengrass wasn't able to tell them much.

At least, nothing about her former patron that Renee didn't already know for herself. That he was a creep. Frustrated, they'd called it a night when they were getting nowhere as to figuring out where his safe house might be, and Cate had gone back with Moody, and Sirius had escorted Renee back to his parents' house, and now…here she was, outside.

_Alone_. On her _own_ , amazed she'd been able to give Black the slip and ran towards the side streets and ducked behind the alleyways, hellbent on reaching her and Billy's flat as if she had only five minutes left to diffuse a bomb. She all but ran around the corner and collided into something much taller and firmer than she was.

Fully expecting an angry outburst and a brawl to break out, Renee flinched and stumbled backward to see a towering figure standing tall over her, somewhat shabby in appearance, with a heavily scarred face, though kind light brown eyes that twinkled as Remus Lupin gave Renee a once-over, assessing her figure.

"Miss Barreau. Are you all right? You might want to take better care where you step the next time," Remus Lupin murmured in a kind voice with just a hint of annoyance that the young woman had seemingly not been watching where she was going, though judging by the look on his face, he didn't seem too upset, which was good.

"F—forgive me, Mr. Lupin, I'm sorry!" Renee coughed, a light blush speckling along her cheeks, though she breathed out a sigh of relief as he reached out an arm and steadied her by the shoulders to prevent her from falling over. "I didn't see you! I—I wasn't watching where I was going," she squeaked in a breathless voice.

Lupin smiled at her, though his brows furrowed together in a cautious frown and his contemplative expression only intensified when Tonks joined her husband by his side, their newborn baby in a sling slung around her front, and Renee couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged the edges of her mouth upward in a tiny grin as the baby's hair began to change color.

"Does it do that a lot? H—his hair," Renee asked in spite of herself, momentarily distracted from her goal of reaching her home, not sure if what she was asking the proud new parents was an offensive question or not, but the query tumbled unchecked from her lips before she could stop herself, and to her relief, they smiled.

"It does. He takes after me in that regard, but I think he's like his father," the woman called Tonks piped up, shooting Renee a kind white smile before craning her neck upward to look at Lupin.

Her smile faltered slightly, but only for a moment, and none was more surprised than Renee was when the young, pink-haired witch extended her arm and held out her hand for the young blonde to take.

"You helped me tremendously, Miss Barreau. Without your testimony, I'd still be locked up in Azkaban. I owe you one someday. I only hope that you'll let me repay the favor, Renee," Tonks said in a somber, grim tone.

Renee shook her head and brushed away the witch's comment with an airy wave of her hand.

"It's nothing. You don't owe me _anything_ , Mrs. Lupin. I—I was happy to help. Anybody else in their right mind would have done the same thing. I _hope_ ," she sighed.

It did not escape Tonks' and Lupin's attentions the nervous, skittish demeanor of the young Muggle's attitude, her shift in countenance as she looked over her shoulder and cast a strangely longing glance at the street in front of her. Tonks was the first to speak up.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, a measure of solemnity softening her features. Tonks glanced to the left and right, as though looking for something, though in this case, Renee knew that the 'something' was actually a 'someone,' and her suspicions were confirmed when she spoke up. "Where is Sirius?" she pressed on, her frown deepening as she swiveled her head back around and furrowed her brows. "We thought he would be with you. Has something happened?" she urged, her tone demanding but not necessarily unkind, though it was more than enough to elicit a light pink blush to speckle along Renee's face.

If it was at all possible, the young blonde woman's blush deepened, and she actively avoided their gazes.

"Ah, well, he doesn't know that I'm out here." Sensing their growing looks of disapproval, Renee blanched and immediately began trying to correct herself. "Please don't tell him. He—your friend, he is a _kind_ man, with a good, _good_ heart, but…I have to know."

As if to emphasize her point, she looked towards the street in front of her, having to stand on her tiptoes and peer over Tonks's shoulder in order to see it better.

"I have to know if Billy's all right. Just for a moment, and then I promise to come back, you lot. I—I can't stand not knowing if…if something is…"

_Wrong_ , is what she wanted to say, but she couldn't. But her voice cracked as it trailed off and Renee didn't bother to finish her sentence. She couldn't.

Lupin inclined his head, saying nothing, his light brown eyes understanding of her plight, but no less troubled.

Renee had heard from Sirius that his best mate was actually a werewolf and that he had trouble maintaining steady work due to the nature of his condition a few times a month, but with the invention of a particular kind of potion, his transformations were quite safe, as long as he took them accordingly and never forgot a dosage, for if he missed one, the entire potion was rendered ineffective and utterly useless.

Lowering his voice, Remus leaned forward and moved to place a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder.

"Would you like my wife and I to go with you? We won't come inside, we'll just stand outside."

Renee shook her head, drawing in a calming breath and tried her hardest to fight off the wave of embarrassment that currently threatened to engulf her. "Ah, no thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin. You two should go on ahead. It's getting late. I will be just fine. I can handle myself."

Tonks exchanged a dark look with Remus. "There's nothing wrong with caution, Renee, especially considering your unique circumstances," she advised, seemingly not convinced of the blonde's response. "Are you sure you don't want us there? We could provide protection. You don't know what he's like," she began, though she could tell by the look of determination and resolve that was set as stone in the young woman's features, that there was no changing her mind.

She wanted to check on her brother, _alone_.

"No, thank you," Renee murmured hurriedly under her breath, and before either Remus or Tonks could stop her, she darted out from behind them and sped off towards the street, where her flat's complex was. "I won't be long, only a couple of minutes. Then I promise to come back. Maybe when I get back you two could sit down with Sirius and I and teach me how to play this wizard's chess. I've never played a game where the pieces move of their own accord and can talk to you," Renee called over her shoulder.

Tonks nodded, unable to quell the sudden swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach as she and Lupin watched the young Muggle woman leave, turning her words over in her mind. Since when did she start making plans on behalf of her and her cousin?

The young witch gave her head a curt shake to clear it, her attention was momentarily drawn away by the sound of baby Teddy's coos and giggles. She smiled and turned towards Remus.

"That girl is in love, Remus, believe it or not," Tonks murmured quietly to Lupin under her breath as they reluctantly turned around and made to head towards their Headquarters.

Lupin quirked a questioning brow at his wife, a look of incredulity and disbelief etched on his lined and scarred features. "With?" he pressed, feigning ignorance, though Remus was quite an observant man and not a fool. He knew better and judging by the look that Tonks currently shot him, he knew it as well, too.

"Sirius," was all Tonks answered pointedly in a matter-of-fact manner as she shrugged her shoulders. "I can see it in her eyes, Remus. She cares for him, whether she knows this or not."

Lupin nodded in understanding, knowing exactly who Tonks was referring to, just by the intonation of her voice. Admittedly, he was surprised by this inference of his wife, but he trusted Dora's input more than anyone else he knew, aside from Sirius's, of course.

"How do you know? Did she say something to you? Has she told you as much?" he asked, pulling Tonks close and allowing his wife to rest her head against the crook of his shoulder.

"No. No, she didn't need to say anything, Remus. It's in the way she speaks about him, and…it's in her eyes," Tonks murmured thoughtfully, keeping her gaze fixated on Renee Barreau's retreating form, until the blonde slipped out of their line of sight. "There's…something there, I can just tell, Remus…I wonder if Sirius is aware of this…"

Lupin merely grunted wordlessly in response, instead opting to sling his arm around his wife's shoulder, though they made no move to head back to Grimmauld Place, neither one wanting to head for Sirius's place until they saw the blonde round the corner again and that they knew Barreau was safe and could escort her back.

Sirius would have their heads if the two of them allowed Renee Barreau to traverse the streets of London alone with a killer on the loose. Though he let out a light little chuckle when he recollected the look in the Muggle woman's eyes as she too, gave them the slip and headed for her home.

When she had called out to him and Dora over her shoulder, there had indeed been something there, as his wife had said, a glimmer in the young woman's bright blue eyes that lit up her entire face the second Sirius's name had been mentioned.

How she smiled… As the pair stood in wait, waiting for Renee Barreau to come back around the corner, not trusting her to walk back to Grimmauld Place alone, for one, she wouldn't be able to find it given the layer of protective enchantments surrounding the place, and two, the fact reminded that they still had a serial killer on the loose, Lupin considered the look again in her eyes, and wondered if he should tell Tonks that Renee had more than figured it out by now, but had Sirius?

"What about—" Remus started to ask, but almost as if on cue, the sound of a shout, more like a harsh bark, an animalistic noise rent the otherwise silent night air around them, and Lupin did not bother to stifle his arm as Sirius himself rounded the corner, looking thoroughly agitated, his dark hair disheveled.

" **WHERE IS SHE**?" he bellowed, his roar practically echoing and reverberating off the walls of the brick building they rested against, and Sirius blanched the moment baby Teddy started to cry in response and Tonks and Lupin shot him withering looks. "Sorry," he grumbled, carding his fingers through his thick tuft of dark hair in a voice that did not sound sorry at all. "But she—she's _disappeared_! Gods be damned, Merlin _damn_ that woman, she'll drive me nuts!"

Remus quickly molded his features into one of impassive indifference.

"Just take a moment to _calm_ yourself, Sirius. Sirius, calm down and take a deep breath. Who's disappeared? Who? _Whom_?" he asked in a nonchalant, casual voice that betrayed none of his amusement, though he knew Sirius saw it in his eyes.

The edges of Black's lips curled up and he brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes as he snarled, though Tonks and Lupin remained unfazed by the man's growls.

" _Renee_! Don't play _dumb_ with me, Moony, you've always been a _horrible_ liar, so don't bloody start this!" Sirius bellowed, losing the last vestiges of his patience as he tugged on a lock of his dark hair that had been previously pulled back in a low ponytail. " _Where the hell is she_?"

Tonks shot him an angry look as she shifted Teddy in the sling and did her best to soothe their now-crying son.

"Remus, _please_ , will you take him somewhere _else_ so I can try to calm Teddy down and get him back to sleep?" she begged, gesturing with a mad wave of his arm towards Sirius, who was now restlessly pacing the sidewalk in front of him, seizing on tufts of his hair.

He looked quite livid. Sirius's head whiplashed sharply upwards and his pale face drained of all colors.

Sirius, known for his impatience, turned around in frustration before facing his best mate and his wife, pointing his finger accusingly at Remus as he gritted his teeth in anger, whisper hissing his words to Lupin.

"I _know_ you know something, Moony," growled Sirius, his gaze unwavering as his dark hair was swept up by the tumultuous gust of wind that swept through the side streets of downtown London. "And if you care to keep your _tongue_ in your _mouth_ , tell me where she is," he snarled in a low, threatening voice, almost a growl as he throttled his urge to roar like an enraged dragon as his gaze narrowed as he glared at Remus. "Right now, or I swear I'll—"

"You like her." Tonks' statement cut through whatever threat Sirius had been about to make to his best friend, which was enough to inspire response from the man and catch him off guard.

" _What_?" snapped Sirius angrily the moment he felt his pale gray eyes widen in shock as his mind processed his baby cousin's words. "That's—no, I—I don't…" he stammered and spluttered like a madman trying to find his words, though after a few moments of this and being on the receiving end of a particularly admonishing look from both Lupin and Tonks, he felt something shift within himself and his shoulders slump forward in a sense of defeat.

Tonks merely smiled serenely back at her cousin as Sirius lifted his gaze to stare at the pair rather nervously, suddenly not sure what it was that he wanted of them, other than for Moony and Dora to tell him where Barreau had gone.

"Ignore Tonks, Sirius. She is romantic in nature and assumed over the nature of your…connection with Miss Barreau," Remus said hastily, sensing the worst of Sirius's temper swelling as he stepped forward in hope of rectifying the mess that Sirius got himself into.

"Apology accepted," grumbled Sirius quickly before turning his gaze towards Tonks. What he really wanted, he supposed, was a witch's input, a woman's advice for the question he was about to ask. "I don't think Barreau likes me, Tonks."

His voice was even rougher and coarser than usual as Sirius closed his eyes, grimacing as Black couldn't help but wonder if he was making a huge mistake in confiding his dark little secret.

"You don't know that, Sirius," Remus replied warmly, and Sirius supposed he ought to be grateful the man had chosen to overlook the fact that he had essentially more or less just yelled at him in demanding to know where Renee was.

"I do," he growled, baring his teeth in an animalistic, almost dog-like snarl. "I know how Barreau feels. She doesn't like me. No, it's more than that. She despises me for what I am. She—"

"How do you know, Black?" Tonks asked. "Has she told you that she despises you, that she hates you?" she continued, her voice plain, as though she were a St. Mungo's Healer trying to diagnose her cousin with some form of illness.

"…No…" replied Sirius begrudgingly after a long and somewhat awkward pause. "She hasn't."

"Then you _don't_ know. Not until you _ask_ her," Tonks pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone that was so blatantly obvious that Sirius, in his frustration over what to do about his problem, wished for a moment he could hex it off her.

Her voice was insufferably positive, and Sirius did not know what to make of the change.

" _What_?" blurted out the former prisoner of Azkaban, lifting his head to look bleary-eyed at Tonks, who was walking towards Sirius slowly. He looked to Moony for confirmation, who nodded. Their roles were reversed now. Remus seemed to be the one who was now being utterly entertained to watch Sirius slowly descend into misery, and all over a single young woman, yes.

" _Ask_ her." Tonks repeated slowly, smiling kindly towards her. Sirius furrowed his brows and raised them in alarm, unable to tell if his cousin was being genuine or spurning him on.

"Th—that's not really an option for me, Tonks," Sirius began to say slowly, his voice hoarse before he blushed and looked down at the cracked sidewalk beneath his boots in shame.

He knew what Moony and Dora were thinking, without even having to meet their gazes. ' _Coward'_ , probably. He can't even talk to her. And they would be right in that regard, yes.

"Be _honest_ with Barreau. I promise it will help," Tonks chirped brightly, flashing Sirius a white smile that the forlorn man did not return.

Remus was looking contemplative and thoughtful, and unusually quiet. Well, more quiet than usual, which for him, spoke volumes.

"Why the sudden lack of confidence, Sirius?" Remus questioned, furrowing his brows in thought as he rubbed the growing stubble along his jawline, wincing as he knew he needed to shave, and soon. "You never _used_ to have any problems talking to women, in fact, you _always_ got the women, and especially into your bed—"

Tonks stomped on Remus's foot as silently as she could while her cousin continued to stare miserably at a nearby crack in the wall of the building behind Tonks's head. Remus glowered at his wife with a confused expression on his face while his wife, in return, returned his stare.

"If I could give you a piece of advice, Black," Tonks replied calmly after a while, turning to face her cousin as though her husband had not just offered up a quip of his own as it pertained to Sirius's past dating history with the witches. "Don't try to hide your emotions. If you're nervous around her, then let Renee see it for herself. It will make her feel more comfortable around you if she sees you're as nervous as she's bound to be. We're very complicated, you know. Pleasing women takes practice, as well as charm."

She chose her words carefully, Sirius noted, wary and not wanting to offend him.

Sirius grunted wordlessly in response, and finally, he found his voice.

"It's the 'charm' aspect that seems to be becoming an issue for me, cousin," he replied gruffly, desperately wishing for Tonks to forget that he had been hanging onto her every uttered word just now. "Merlin knows why. It's never been an issue before until now," he confessed, swallowing.

"This woman, this Muggle girl, is…special, Sirius," Tonks murmured. "She isn't like everyone else, though I think you already know that. Look at how exceptionally well she reacted to…all of this," she added, gesturing with one of her arms in a flourish, referring to their magic. "She went out of her way to help secure my release from prison. For that, I owe her. If you want, I could speak to her on your behalf?"

She bit her bottom lip and waited for Sirius to respond and was not at all surprised when the stubborn man shook his head no in response to her offer, wanting to put him out of his misery.

"N—no, I will do it myself. Where did she go?" he questioned, looking to the left and right, as though half-hoping and expecting Renee Barreau would just round the corner and show herself, and then his secret would be a secret no more. He turned to look at Tonks and Remus.

"Her home. That way," Remus answered simply with a jerk of his head behind them.

"Thanks," Sirius answered gruffly, taking one last withering look at his best friend and his wife, quitting the scene and stalking off down the sidewalk towards Renee's flat, to try to do one of the hardest things he had ever to accomplish. As for the two of them, Tonks and Lupin turned towards each other, speechless about what had just transpired between them all.

Well, _almost_. The edges of Tonks' lips curled upward in a light, lilting little smirk.

"He likes her, doesn't he?" stammered Remus, his question not sounding like one at all, though he looked like he had just been doused in cold water. "I never thought I would see this day come for him. If he just really had to speak to her, he'd have no trouble telling Miss Barreau what he just told us. And he's never come to me for advice about matters like this," he breathed incredulously.

"I think it's more than that, sweetheart," Tonks replied gravely, her smile sliding off her face and her expression turning melancholy.

Lupin frowned and slowly turned to regard Tonks as he took both of her hands in his, before bringing her knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I think that he already likes her in that way, or is starting to at least become aware of it for himself. Infatuation, maybe, at a minimum," Tonks explained, her expression now quite serious and forlorn. "And that spells trouble."

"Why?" Lupin demanded, leaning towards his wife with concern, leaning down to place a gentle brief kiss on Dora's forehead before doing the same to his newborn son. "Why is this bad?"

"Because he's never fallen in love with a woman before, at least, from what little you've told me about his…past, he tends to flit through women like used parchment paper. Or at least, he _used_ to," Tonks whispered, referring to his womanizing ways in the past. "I'm afraid that this experience is going to change him, forever. But only time is going to tell if it's for the better or worse."


	25. Chapter 25

Renee drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she nervously fumbled the key in her flat's door, swearing under her breath as the door made a truly loud creak, alerting anyone aside from Billy and Mrs. Jenkins who might be here to her presence.

She flinched, pausing in the darkened doorway, though she very nearly screamed when the sound of what sounded like a thud and a yelp reached her eardrums.

Renee clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to escape her lips.

"Billy?" she whispered, gingerly stepping over the threshold of the door. "Is it you?" She was met with nothing but silence as an answer and Renee gave her head a curt shake to clear it, about to flick the switch when she heard the unmistakable sound of what sounded like a body hitting the floor. "What the hell?" she swore, knitting her brows. She knew that sound.

Sometimes Billy sleepwalked in his sleep and was prone to accidentally hitting his knees or stubbing his toe. Though what struck Renee as odd was that her kid brother hadn't said anything. He usually got excited whenever she came home, and asked about her day at the restaurant, wanting to know more.

She felt her way inside and groped for the light switch. As fall crept on in downtown London, it got so damned bloody dark early that it might as well have been the middle of the night, instead of only going on maybe about seven o'clock or so…

Renee felt the light switch at the tip of her fingers and flicked it upward, shielding her eyes as she waited for the blinding warm light of the lightbulb in the ceiling fan fixture to flood their simple living room with light, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the change.

Though nothing happened. "Ugh, just great. Power outage," she groaned. "Billy? Is that you?" The young blonde continued to stand in the dark, eerily quiet house. "Goddamn it," she swore and stepped further into the living room. "Billy, if this is your idea of a sick stupid _prank_ , it's not—"

A sudden shriek left her throat as she felt something hard and wet press itself against her hip and Renee was forced to throw herself to the side to avoid colliding with whatever that thing happened to be. A light little laugh bubbled its way up into her throat when she saw it was only the fake succulent their neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, across the way had given her. Nobody wants a big sister that can't even keep a plant alive, Billy's babysitter had joked once.

But Renee's laughter immediately died on her tongue and her chest tightened and constricted, and she froze when the blonde felt something press against the edge of her black sneaker and she knelt down to the living room floor, wanting a look.

Reaching out a slightly shaking hand and lowering it, she immediately recognized said object that she placed her trembling hand down as Billy's face.

"Billy?" she whispered, a horrible coil twisting her stomach into hard knots as her heart crept its way up into her throat and she swore she tasted bile. "Billy, is that you?" she pleaded, her fear rising. She shook her kid brother's body but got no response from the boy in return. "Oh, god, oh, _fuck_ ," she swore, trying to contain her panic as she stood and slowly backed away, her hands clamped over her mouth. Her brother on the floor lay lifeless.

_Lifeless_. His dark hair scattered in multiple places, stained with dried crimson. His own blood.

His green eyes were wide open, but his jade irises held a sudden sadness and fear that no words or painting could ever match. His clothes, a simple t-shirt, and jeans were bloody. And the _smell_. The smell was the most disturbing thing Renee had ever sniffed. Her heart pounded as one question continued to race through her mind: where was he?

She was losing her mind, again. She could feel it unraveling, the threads of every happy memory Barreau could once recall, all but disarray of strings scattered at her feet. Her knees dug into the carpeted floor as she hit the ground next to her brother, her hands unsteady as they clawed at Billy's t-shirt, desperate to feel some sort of pulse.

Renee opened her mouth to scream bloody murder, to cry, but not a sound came out. Her eyes saw nothing; they'd lost all sight of what was and the things that could have been. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just gone.

Renee paused trying to hold back the strange feelings rumbling inside of her, but she just couldn't. A lone tear traced down her cheek, and just like that, the floodgates opened. So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her pale face. Her chin trembled as if she was a small child.

She breathed heavier than she ever had before as if she had just run a marathon. Renee was gasping for air that simply wasn't there. Her throat burned to form a silent scream. Is this what crying felt like?

Renee swallowed hard the bile that had crept its way from her stomach and up into her throat as she shakily rose to her feet and backed away slowly.

_Have to…call someone. Cops, call the cops, no call Tonks or someone. Do wizards have phones_?

Her brain couldn't process any of this. she prayed their phone lines still worked even though the power was out. Before she could turn on her heel to make a beeline for the kitchen, however, Renee's right shoulder collided against something hard and warm and she stumbled backward.

A startled scream left her lips and she looked up at the source. The moment her tear-filled blue eyes landed on him, at first, Renee couldn't process the information. Her mouth when dry and her throat and chest seized up, rendering her utterly breathless.

Everett's body looked taller and stronger in a set of pristine black robes that billowed and swished when he moved than it ever had in his jeans and sweaters combinations the frequent times the man had come into the Broken Spoon Café for a cup of his favorite coffee: black, just like his heart.

Reading the Morning Killer's methods in the newspapers, Renee never understood the sheer terror his victims must have felt before they died. Now she could. This murderer had killed her brother, and now, he was going to kill her too. The moment he took a step forward, Renee stumbled backward and collided with the glass coffee table.

The back of her knees hit the glass-covered wood and she fell backward onto the table, shattering the glass.

" **WHY**?" she screamed, baling her now-bleeding, white-boned hands into fists, her knuckles shaking with the effort to steady herself as she crawled backward on the floor, away from him.

No answer. Everett always was the quiet type. The man approached her slowly, calmly, deliberately, the tip of his wand raised and pointed squarely at her chest. His actions were controlled, not rushed.

He did not rush towards her or run at all. He remained…eerily and disturbingly unaffected by Renee's tears streaming down her cheeks, or the fact that he had to kick aside Billy's lifeless body in order to further advancing on her as Renee quite literally, backed herself into the furthermost corner of their living room, wildly searching for a way out.

Renee felt fresh tears sting and touch at her eyes as Everett continued his silent stalking towards her and she waited, her lips parted open as if to scream for help, praying that someone—Mrs. Jenkins, Lupin or Tonks, or hell, even Sirius—would hear her, but nothing but a strangled attempt at the speech was coming out of her mouth as she cried.

Renee was not a witch, though she was wishing right that she were. She wanted nothing more than to kill this man herself for what he took from her. She knew her chances of escaping were slim to none. Everett would catch her before she'd even get two feet away from him, she was sure of it.

Hell, he could snap her like a twig if he wanted, but something told her he'd rather use his wand, and then it hit her. He killed most of them with that wand in his hand, that's why there was no physical evidence, though all the victims she'd read about in the paper and on the telly all had one thing in common: expressions of utter terror on their faces, their eyes wide open, mouths in an eternal silent scream. Billy over on the floor was no exception to this rule. His wand hand raised, and Renee put her hands up.

" **NO** , Everett, _don't_!" she cried, the second she saw his hand give a flick, and he froze. Renee squeezed her eyes tightly shut and waited for…whatever spell he was about to cast, or for the feel of something to rip into her flesh and kill her on the spot, but it never came for her.

Renee swallowed and, when she had regained at least an ounce of courage, peeked open one eye and looked up into the man she'd used to serve coffee to, and was always polite and kind to, though she didn't particularly like the man himself.

He merely proceeded to stare down his nose at her blankly, but she could see those piercing eyes of green that, though she hated to admit it, were the man's best quality aside from his thick head of dark hair. They had the same look the restaurant manager used to attribute whenever he was trying to make up his mind on which pastry to order to go with his coffee.

"Everett, _why_?" she begged, practically pleading with the man to tell her why he'd killed her brother, and to her utter amazement, his wand hand lowered at his side.

Gasping for breath that simply would not return to her lungs, Renee slowly sat up on the table, careful to mind where she placed her hands, not wanting the glass to pierce her palms, and looked up at the killer, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had no clue how to go about this at all.

Did she cry? Beg him not to kill her? Scream for help and hope the noise attracted someone here? She didn't have much experience in dealing with psychopaths, save for her ex, John Newall, but that was bloody different. This was very, very new.

And very, very bad. Renee flinched when Everett slowly brought up his left hand, the one not clutching onto his wand, and hovered the pads of his fingertips just over her cheekbones. She could feel his fingertips on her tear-streaked face though the man did not touch her, for which she was glad.

Renee tasted bile, resisting the urge to smack his hand away, knowing that if she tried, such a thing would only provoke his anger further, and then he really would kill her, and she'd see Billy and their parents sooner again rather than later, yes…

It felt like an electrical surge that caused goosebumps to erupt all over her skin and the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

He…he _wasn't_ going to kill her? But… _why_? Her surge of confusion quickly began to fade, however, as she watched Everett raise his wand to her chest again, but before Renee could allow herself to feel the inevitable terror that soon threatened to consume her, he jerked his hand down and vanished on the spot the moment a loud, deafening _crack_! filled her dark living room that smelt of death.

This time, her scream, more of a half-choked bubbling sob, left her lips as her head whiplashed so sharply upwards at the noise that she felt a flaring white-hot lightning bolt travel up her neck and around the contour of her ear. She yelped, clamping a hand to her neck, and rubbing it gingerly before moving it back to cover her mouth with a trembling hand and felt hot tears leave her lids.

"Miss Barreau?" came Lupin's cautious voice.

Renee made a muffled noise at the back of her throat that instantly alerted Tonks's husband to her presence, kneeling on her knees in a pile of broken glass fragments, cradling her brother's lifeless body. Wherever Everett had disappeared to, the bastard had vanished.

She embraced her thrusting shoulders. Renee couldn't remember the last time she'd felt such shivering, such revolt, and self-disgust before, and her body went utterly limp the moment Lupin knelt on the floor beside her.

"Merlin…." He moaned, once his eyesight adjusted to the darkness and his sight landed on the lifeless corpse of her brother, not even seven years old. A pang of pity and overwhelming sadness pricked at his heartstrings as he quickly realized one of the Muggle woman's worst fears had come to light, and he and Tonks should have been here.

Her mind rioted with desperation, wanting to know what she'd ever done to deserve such a hellish life, a soul that wanted to be free of this pain and the clutches of the evil of this world.

She lost the last thing in this life that she had sworn to protect, and she had failed her little brother. She began to scream. The soothing words of Remus Lupin made little to no difference at all.

"Come away," he urged into the shell of her ear. "Y—you don't need to see this. Come. _Now_."

Without waiting for Renee to respond (she couldn't), Lupin took hold of Renee's forearm and violently wrenched her away from her brother's body. " _No_!" she screamed, immediately thrashing in the werewolf's strong grip around her waist, fighting tooth and nail as Tonks's husband worked to put as much distance between herself and Billy's body as he could. " _I—I can't leave him! We—we have to-h—have to bury him! Let. Me._ _ **GO**_!"

"You don't need to be here right now," Lupin answered in a gruff voice, though his voice cracked and warbled as he risked one more glance back over at the lifeless six-year-old's body on the floor. "Tonks and I are taking you back. Sirius is just outside. We'll…we'll come back for him, Miss Barreau, I _promise_ , but right now, you aren't _safe_."

Lupin's fear surged through his veins, squeezing his eyes tightly shut the moment his senses were assaulted with the scents and sights of the outside world the moment he forcefully dragged a violently protesting Renee outside of her flat, cringing as Sirius, who'd been sitting on the front stoop of the complex alongside Tonks, practically bolted to his feet, looking appalled and disgusted at her physical condition and the way Remus was forcefully dragging her down the steps.

"What happened?" Sirius demanded hoarsely, taking the steps two at a time to meet Lupin and Renee on the steps, his pale gray orbs narrowing in suspicion as they lingered uncomfortably on Renee's too-pale, grief-stricken, tearstained face.

Lupin felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he took note of the shimmering unshed moisture that wasn't exactly tears glistening in his best friend's eyes, thinking he'd never seen Black flustered over a woman before, until this very moment. He shoved aside the inappropriate thought, lowering his voice as he took a cautious half step down the last step and onto the cracked sidewalk at his feet.

"Her brother was just killed. In there. It's _him_. We need to take her back. It's not safe for her here. No sign of the Morning Killer, Sirius. He's…gone."

" **WHAT**?" Sirius roared, losing all semblance of composure as his face rapidly drained of colors.

His breaths were coming in short, his chest was tight. For a moment, Black thought he might faint. His blood was pounding, roaring in his eardrums, and he could hear Tonks speaking to Lupin, and then to him, though all he heard at the moment was a horrible, fatigued ringing in his ears.

The world was terrible, vile, and wicked.

"Sirius, don't do something _stupid_!" Tonks urged desperately. "You don't want to risk yourself getting arrested and chucked back in Azkaban—"

" _Why the hell did you tell me this, Moony, if not to do something about it_?" Sirius roared, turning the worst of his wrath on his best mate.

Anger swept over his wretched body in a blackening torrent, and he almost launched himself through the front door of Barreau's apartment complex and went after Everett himself, the snake.

Sirius balled his hands into fists and kicked at the black iron-wrought hand railing. Black was making a truly terrible noise that belonged to neither man nor dog whenever he was Padfoot, a noise of anger, pain, and an utter sense of betrayal.

He pounded on the railing and then the front door, needing an outlet to vent his pain and frustrations against, wishing he could blow this whole building to pieces, and kill Everett himself.

Lupin was standing beside him, trying to put an arm over Black's shoulders, but Sirius violently wrenched away, not having any of it right now.

He flung himself against the wall of the complex, screaming bloody murder, a truly haunting sound, not giving a damn who heard.

Remus made no attempt to come anywhere near Sirius until the worst of his rage, that black tempest had run its course, and waited to approach until Black had let it all out and was panting in ragged gasps as the worst of his temper evaporated.

Sirius tasted bile in his mouth. He swallowed it. Lupin opened his mouth to speak further, seeing the growing look of outrage in Sirius's eyes, though was not given an opportunity as the moment Black reached out a trembling hand with the intent to set it on her shoulder and escort her back to Grimmauld Place, the Muggle woman immediately went into hysterics and started thrashing, fighting Lupin tooth and nail like a savage, rabid dog and screaming bloody murder as Sirius, with gently but surprising strength, took her arm.

" _Don't touch me_!" Renee shouted, tears still steadily streaming down her face. " **GET AWAY FROM ME! LET GO OF ME**!" she hollered hoarsely, desperately trying to scratch at Sirius's face, not wanting any man to touch her right now.

"Renee, stop, stop, it's _me_! It's me, it's _me_!" shouted Sirius, desperate to bring Barreau back to them and calm her down. They'd already made enough of a scene as it was, and as the worst of his anger fled, replaced with something much quieter and sadder, he realized that Moony was right, damn it. They needed to take her back home. She was not safe.

Not knowing what else to do, he cradled her head in his hands and tilted it slightly upwards, forcing Renee with no choice but to meet his gaze.

He wanted nothing more than to sweep her in his arms and Disapparate with her, take her someplace away from all of this. But he exhaled a deep, shaking breath and forced himself to remain calm.

The last thing he wanted to do was startle Barreau while she was in such an emotionally vulnerable state. He'd only seen her cry the once, the night she'd fallen through his bloody ceiling on accident but had never seen her lose composure.

Not like _this_. It was unsettling, to say the least, and a little bit frightening, if he was being honest with himself. He blew out a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. "Renee?" he asked softly.

She met his gaze at the sound of his voice, which was unusually soft and not as rough and coarse, sensing the shift in Sirius's behavior for her benefit, and the look of heartbreak on her face almost physically hurt him as her face twisted and contorted with grief. Her eyes were red and glassy, fresh tears streaked down blotchy cheeks.

She continued to cry and showed no signs of stopping.

"Did he…did he hurt you?" he asked, fearing the worst, and not wanting and both needing the answer. Much to his relief, Renee shook her head.

"No," she croaked out in a faint whisper.

His concern melted away to something quieter and sadder as Renee ducked her head, quiet sobs wracking her shoulders as she sniffed, struggling to reign in her grief. Sirius found he had nothing to say in response, and neither did Lupin or Tonks. He wracked his brain in silence, but he was too Merlin-damned distracted.

The only thing he was able to comprehend and understand completely that someone he was growing to care for was falling apart to pieces in front of him and he had not the faintest clue how to help her, what to say.

One look over at Moony and Tonks told him they couldn't help him with this one, either, as they were just as lost as he was, and looked equally upset.

Hesitantly, and feeling like an awkward schoolboy, Sirius gently moved closer to Renee and wrapped his arms around her violently shaking form. She resisted at first, stiffening at the intimacy of the closeness of the unexpected gesture, though Sirius felt the tension in his own shoulders dissipate inch by inch as the woman turned and buried her face in his chest, letting herself cry with no restraint.

As his maroon velvet coat grew damp with her tears, Sirius tried to comprehend what in the seven hells had just happened. How the hell had she managed to give him the slip without him knowing?

How had Everett known she'd come home? And more importantly, when would he come back?

He did not give the questions a voice, as much as they burned for answers. All he could do in this instance was hold her quietly, not even bothering to look up and acknowledge Moony and Dora when the pair of them mumbled their sympathies and half-hearted goodbyes, saying they would alert the other Order members as to what happened, and send a team of Aurors to examine Renee's flat, as it was now a crime scene, and retrieve Billy's body.

He held her in silence, letting the worst of the waves of sadness pass through her. Absentmindedly, he rubbed circles over her back until her body had ceased to shudder with sobs.

"T—take me away from here. Let's _leave_ ," she said, a note of desperation and urgency in her choked voice as she pulled apart to look at him.

The way Barreau was looking at him now, with such pleading agony in her pale blue eyes glistening with fresh tears, it felt as though she herself had plunged her own two bare hands into his chest and ripped Sirius's heart out from him.

Only the strong grip of Black's hold on her held Renee in place. She had not even remembered her knees weakening or her chest hyperventilating, her soul feeling like it plunged into a dark abyss.

The images of her brother came crashing down on her in waves, and it only ceased to torment her the moment Black finally covered her sight with a numb embrace and a well-played kiss on top of her hair that sent a strange warmth through her chest, though she shoved it aside as the tears came pouring out.

She could have filled a well with them had she gathered all the wretched drops.

"I want to get out of here. To go back," she choked out hoarsely, feeling Sirius stiffen against her. "And…" she paused, swallowing down past the impossible lump in her throat that threatened to render her breathless. "And I…don't want to be alone. Will you…will you let me stay with you?"

More questions arose in his mind, and not without any measure of anxiety. But Sirius pushed them away and forced himself to be patient. Renee had said she wanted to talk, and he recollected Tonks' and Moony's advice from earlier in his mind. Renee had said she wanted to talk. They would. After a moment, he reluctantly drew away.

She looked up at him with sad, hollowed eyes, tears now utterly spent, her face much too pale.

A stray wisp of her blonde hair was stuck to her forehead, causing Sirius to reach up and brush it away with careful tenderness.

"Okay," he said, at last, relenting as he conceded to her request. "Let me take you home."

Renee nodded, her tongue refusing the release of another half-choked sob as she stepped back and gripped onto Sirius's forearm, squeezing her eyes shut, thinking it would be a bloody miracle if she didn't vomit when they got back. She'd not traveled by way of magic before save for the night in Echo Alley, and she was not eager to do it again.

But it was the quickest way, and she wanted to go home sooner rather than later, and she shoved aside thoughts of her comfort for right now, letting Black take her back. This place…was _not_ her home.

Not anymore. Renee was smart enough not to look back, though if she would have opened her eyes and looked up towards the stoop a fraction of a second before she and Black Disapparated and went back, she would have seen the figure of Everett sitting on the front stoop, his listless eyes watching them leave.


	26. Chapter 26

**RENEE** hadn't spoken a word to anyone since she'd discovered Billy's body. Not a word in three days, though the morning of the poor Muggle boy's funeral came to London on a dreary Sunday morning, and Renee Barreau showed no signs of wanting to attend, though she was dressed for it, Tonks noticed, in a simple long-sleeved black dress and boots.

Tonks pursed her lips into a thin line as she gingerly knocked, her knuckles white-boned as she, as suspected, heard nothing from the closed bedroom door of the spare room upstairs in Sirius's house.

Letting out a tired sigh, she set the tray down outside the door in case Renee got hungry later, and stomped, yes, quite literally stomped her way downstairs. Tonks was frustrated, to say the least.

She knew she and Lupin should have gone with Barreau. If they had, maybe they could have apprehended Everett before he'd killed Billy. A pang of fear pricked at her heartstrings.

 _What if he were to ever come after Teddy_? The thought made the wife and mother's blood boil as she headed to the kitchens, bruising her hands on the skirts of her black dress, and tugging on a lock of her hair.

Tonks knew if that bastard ever came after her or her son or Remus, her code aside as an Auror be Merlin damned, she'd kill him, risking Azkaban all over again.

"No matter what," Tonks whispered hoarsely as she lifted her gaze and was met with the forlorn-looking sight of Sirius, looking rather haggard, with Lupin sitting next to him, a hand over his shoulders.

He blearily glanced up with his red-rimmed eyes, cracked at the edges, his voice much hoarser than his cousin had ever heard him. "Barreau? How is she?"

Sirius pursed his lips into a thin line, knowing it was a little pushing to ask after the young woman.

None of the rest of the Order had barely seen Renee Barreau since Sirius brought her back to Headquarters a few days ago, though the gossip was rampant among the other members about the nature of Sirius and Renee's possible relationship, the whispers followed Sirius wherever he went, and Tonks and Lupin could both plainly see that it was starting to have a heavy effect on the man.

There were darkened circles under his eyes, his cheekbones almost hollow and sunken in. He was working himself to death as a distraction, not sleeping at all.

"Renee is…" Tonks started to say, glancing towards Lupin first for confirmation before reluctantly turning her gaze back to Sirius, with false-optimism, her voice sounding much too sweet, before looking into her cousin's heart and feeling her shoulders slump in defeat at the look on Sirius's face. "She is…not doing so well, Sirius. I can't lie to you. She won't eat at all," Tonks sighed, pulling out the chair across the way from Lupin and Black and sitting down, propping her elbows up on the table and picking at a stray strand that was coming loose on one of the sleeves of her dress. "She's hurting."

Lupin nodded his agreement with his wife's statement, watching sadly out of the corner of his peripherals as Black collapsed back against the headrest of the wooden armchair he rested in, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he buried his head in his hands, dragging a calloused hand down alongside his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"I don't know what to do," Sirius whispered hoarsely, as the late afternoon sunshine streamed through one of the narrow kitchen windows and cast its light onto his back. "She won't talk to me, won't tell me anything, Nymphadora. The most I've been able to get out of her is she's coming."

By that, he was referring to her brother's funeral.

"But?" Remus urged, his voice echoing against the walls of the kitchen and he flinched, not wanting the other Order members flitting about Headquarters to overhear what in his mind was a private conversation.

Sirius looked toward Lupin in surprise. "Whenever I try to go upstairs to talk to her, she said she wanted to talk, all I get from that girl is silence!" he snapped, his voice hardened and tense. "If she's hurting, then I want her to tell me that. But she won't even look at me, and now she won't _eat_?"

Black's final words came out in exclamation, this time, truly alarming both Lupin and Tonks, who exchanged dark looks with one another before returning their attention to their friend in dire need.

"Sirius, please don't think of doing anything _rash_ ," Lupin began cautiously, speaking slowly and choosing his words very carefully so as to not further incite his best mate's temper. "She'll eat when she gets hungry, don't think about going up there and trying to force her to eat." Sensing Sirius was not at all convinced, Remus heaved a tired sigh and continued. "Renee knows she can trust you, Sirius. And if we know the young woman well enough by now, then I think she simply is still struggling to process her own feelings, as we all are, after…that. But whether or not you know it yourself, you've changed, Sirius, though you may not have noticed it, we do. She has had an effect on you in a relatively short amount of time, and I think, in time, it's a change for the better. You should talk to her. Not _yelling_ , not _ordering_ her to eat," Lupin quickly added, sensing imminent danger at the dawning look of anger in Sirius's rapidly paling features, "but… _talk_ to Miss Barreau. It may take her a while considering the horrible trauma she went through a few days ago, is still struggling to process, but Dora and I are confident she will open up to you. Don't let your fear get the better of you. We're going to catch Everett, and whatever lies ahead, we hope you and Renee know that you'll be able to overcome all of this. You both are stronger than you think, Sirius. Know this."

He glanced towards his wife, who quickly nodded her agreement, though Tonks stayed silent for now.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak, looking like he had more on the matter he wanted to say, but could not give his thoughts a voice and decided against it.

He promptly closed his mouth and bolted from his chair, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers and Lupin let out a collective sigh of disappointment and agitation as the pair heard the man storm up the steps, heading for Renee's room.

* * *

Renee wallowed in the misery, alone in the eternal darkness of the spare bedroom, wishing she'd been bloody fast enough to get to Billy in time to…to…

She swallowed down thickly past the lump in her throat, only her brother's memory that would be her comfort forever, and still, Renee hated herself for it. _She_ should have been the one to die, _not_ Billy.

The young woman squeezed her eyes tightly shut from her perch, huddled with her knees pulled up close to her chest, conjuring the image of her kid brother in her mind, and for the few precious moments that her tormented, fragmented mind would allow, Renee could enjoy Billy's presence beside hers and imagine none of…that…happened.

She found herself surfacing from the wicked darkness of her own mind for the third time this afternoon, her thoughts filled to the brim with Billy.

She wanted to float there alongside her brother, savoring all the little moments of their time together.

Renee very nearly screamed when the phantasm her own mind had created began to slip through her outstretched arms, desperately trying to tousle his thick tuft of dark hair once last time, to touch him.

She wanted to scream. From pain, heartache, fear that Everett was still going to come after her tonight.

Renee couldn't explain it, but she'd been plagued with a tingling chill in her bones that continued to linger, freezing the blood in her veins until it was ice.

What was there if not even the memory of him? Though suddenly, from nowhere, a horrible, fatigued ringing filled Renee's eardrums, and a light burned its way into her vision accustomed to pitch-black darkness over the last four days since Sirius brought her back and had graciously let her stay with him.

Her eardrums roared with sound as the truly deafening sound of the door being flung wide open, so hard, as a matter of fact, the damn thing rattled in its hinges, and a blinding light burned itself into her hazy, tear-filled vision. It was dim, as the tip of a flickering lighted candle, yet agonizing, nonetheless.

It very nearly blinded her, and Renee was forced to raise her arms in front of her face to shield her eyes. Her chest heaved and her broken heart struggled to find its rhythm. She was here, but not.

Breathing, but not alive. Then she heard Sirius's voice, clipped, and bordering on sounding aggressive.

Renee did not even have to turn around to know it was Black. His presence lingering in the doorway of the spare bedroom she had been put in was near-stiffening. He dropped the metal tray that Tonks had left outside her door and in the silence of the room, it sounded like an exaggerated crash in his annoyance.

" _Eat_ ," Sirius growled in a voice pressured with ire and wrought with worry for her. She sensed that much. "I haven't walked all the way up those bloody stairs and worried after you for four days just to hear from Lupin and the others that you're starving yourself. Now _eat_. It will do you some good, Renee."

In the shadows, Renee Barreau remained unstirred, huddled into a small ball in the corner, dressed for the funeral in a black lace dress and fishnet stockings and heels, her back bent as she faced away from Sirius. She looked like a corpse and were it not for the slow rising and falling of her shoulders, Sirius would have thought Renee dead.

The edges of Renee's mouth twitched, though she did not smile as she heard the man from behind kick at the other tray that now lay beside the new one that he almost scattered.

The food, a large slice of pound cake, a bowl of oats and fruit, some turkey and cheese, and a bowl of buttered and garnished mashed potatoes all remained cold and untouched.

It wasn't the first tray Renee had wasted and not eaten at all, Tonks had quietly told Sirius and Remus earlier. He breathed slowly through his flaring nostrils, silently willing his temper to calm down.

"You should eat before the wake," he tried again in a low voice. "I won't have you starving yourself."

Again, Sirius's words were met with nothing but silence, save for Renee Barreau's silent breathing, and he took it as an added cinder to the fire hot as dragon flame that began to curdle his ice-cold blood.

It felt to Sirius as though her indifference were a horrible infection that had entered into the young Muggle woman's veins and it was everywhere, in her pores, on her body, festering in her very heart and soul. His fingers dug into the sensitive skin of his palms, his teeth clenched, and his jaw locked shut.

Sirius, in annoyance and exhaustion, pressed at his temples with a thumb and forefinger, almost begrudgingly, stifling the overwhelming, aching need to touch her, to ensure that Renee still breathed air.

"What do you want?" Nothing. "Different food?"

"I want him _dead_." Renee's last word cut him icily, and she blearily lifted her chin at last and stared at Sirius through cracked, red-rimmed blue irises.

This time it was Sirius who found himself at a loss for what to say. His mind raced into consideration. Considering what the Morning Killer had done to her brother, it was a justifiable request, and there was a deeper layer of him that wanted to fulfill whatever request she demanded of him that would get her to stand on her own two feet again, to smile at him.

"He'll face justice for his crimes," Sirius answered, letting out a frustrated sigh and running a hand through his hair before heading towards the door.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

" _Eat_. You'll feel better," he said, echoing something Moony was often fond of saying whenever one of their friends or Order members were feeling ill, though before he could turn on the heels of his boots to go, a mad scrambling noise from behind him caused his hearing to perk up in interest.

Renee stood in front of him, though after a second, she closed her eyes as if she could not bear to look at Sirius. Her hands remained awkwardly in front of her as she continued her nervous habit of weaving her fingers in between white-boned knuckles.

Sirius frowned as he registered the hurt he felt inside but could not understand why he felt so disappointed.

"Thank you," muttered Renee in a faint voice so soft and quiet, that if Sirius hadn't already been hanging onto her every word, he'd have missed it. "Surely… after…what happened, you should…know."

"Know…what?" he whispered, with the young blonde café owner knowing Black wasn't ignorant and just feigning it.

Her blue eyes widened as she looked up to meet the dark-haired man's gaze. She furrowed her brows in a frown. The man's eyes were still closed like he was fighting against something and losing horribly.

His dark wavy hair hung loose and some of it was hanging across his eyes, like that moment outside the River Thames when they'd gone for a walk when he had taken hold of her arm and looked at her like that.

"But don't you know, Renee?" Sirius whispered hoarsely, and Renee's blue eyes widened, knowing the moment she had dared to take his arm the other day, that something between them had then changed.

She swallowed thickly past the lump in her throat, thinking that if the softening of her almond-shaped blue eyes was anything for her to go off of, that she was at least beginning to feel something for the former falsely imprisoned convict of Azkaban.

They were so close now, and Renee barely let out a muffled squeak as Sirius's arms came up to grip onto both of her shoulders, steering her backward and pressing her against the now-closed bedroom door. Black found himself growing nervous like a kid in Hogwarts all over again, growing painfully and acutely aware of the suppleness of her bare shoulders.

The black lace dress she wore was long-sleeved, but was an off-the-shoulder garment, exposing the unblemished skin of her collarbones. As Sirius looked down towards Renee's lips, he wondered if the two of them had ever been this close before.

Perhaps the once, the night she'd fallen through his bloody ceiling and had broken his nose, but…but…this was bloody _different_ , Merlin damn it!

Glancing back towards Renee, Sirius allowed his darkening gaze to ghost across the pale features of her ashen face. No. Tonight she wore a different expression, and at least this time, there was something else other than the unspoken grief for her dead brother flickering through those pale blue orbs.

A sinking feeling began churning in the pit of his stomach as Sirius quickly came to the realization that all of his worst fears had possibly come true, after all.

Barreau did feel that unimaginable feeling that had been welling within him the last few days, at best.

Renee, for all Sirius knew, wasn't even aware of what the bloody hell was happening with her, but Sirius knew, considering he'd just kicked the door shut with the heel of his own boot, she'd not turn away from him, not now, when she was vulnerable.

"Don't play dumb, Barreau. You know," Sirius growled, lowering his voice deeper so that only Renee could possibly hear him. Not that he imagined Moony or even Dora would be outside the door listening in on a private conversation, but still….

Renee remained silent and at a loss for words, her breaths quickening as her blue eyes became large, her irises transfixed and round, unable to tear her gaze away from Sirius, as if he'd held her captive by a curse.

Lifting his hand in a slow, almost methodical manner, Sirius cupped the young Muggle woman's face in his strong grip, and as he did this, he felt Barreau stiffen and tense slightly before relenting and conceding to his unspoken wish, before leaning against him, her tear-stained cheek grazing his palm.

The effect it was having on the man was anything but insignificant. He did not give a damn if she were a Muggle, Squib, half-blood, pureblood, whatever.

None of it mattered. She was so…so beautiful. Black had always known she was an attractive woman, of course, even from that fateful night when she'd dropped unceremoniously onto his table, but now, it felt like she was the most beautiful creature he would ever encounter in his entire adult life, yes.

Without a second thought, before his courage and resolve failed him, he did not say a word as he took Renee's face into his hands. Oh, bloody hell, they'd gone too damned far now. She knew, Sirius could see it for himself in her wide, brimming eyes.

And even if nothing ever came of…this, whatever 'this' was to them both, Sirius did not want to stop himself from being honest with Renee in the minute.

He'd reached his bloody limit and he was not about to take one more step outside of this room without going insane unless he did something about it. This woman, this Muggle, this celestial-like creature held him captive in a vice grip and if he didn't do something now, then he would explode.

Sirius reached up a shaking hand and brushed her blonde bangs out of her eyes, and, not giving her any time to react, leaned down and captured her mouth with his. The two of them fit so…so _perfectly_.

His right hand dropped to her thigh, pulling up the skirts of her dress, his mind screaming at him to pull away, now was not the right moment for…this. But Sirius couldn't move even if he wanted to, it was like her fingers that moved of their own accord and tangled in his thick tuft of dark hair had short-circuited his mind in the best possible way right now.

Their lips fitted perfectly- as if they were meant for each other. Moving against each other, feeling each other. Sirius grabbed the back of her neck, growling in the kiss as Renee whimpered in pleasure. Oh, they'd definitely gone too far now.

If he did not find some way to stop this now, it was inevitably going to lead to something much more passionate and dangerous, and he did not want to take advantage of Barreau in that way while grieving. Opening his eyes, the clouded thought entered his mind as he felt Renee's fishnet-stocking clad leg running unknowingly against his searing, burning, aroused flesh, which awakened a carnal urge within him that he'd not felt for several years.

Before he could lose all sense of himself, Sirius broke apart their embrace and held her at arm's length, forcing Renee Barreau to let go of him.

Renee's blue eyes widened in shock, perhaps she realized what the bloody hell had just transpired between the two of them, and Sirius, noting this, let go and staggered back away from Renee immediately, and turned on the heel of his boot and quit the bedroom before Renee could utter even a single word.

* * *


	27. Chapter 27

Funeral etiquette demanded that Sirius visit the family, attend the wake of William David Barreau to provide sympathy and demand for the loss of the child's life.

It was the least he could do. For Renee. But his feelings for the young blonde Muggle restaurant owner, however, were much more complicated, and Black found himself struggling to reign in…whatever his emotions were for her.

Sirius and Renee stood alongside Remus and Tonks and most of the Order, at least the members who had been present the night Barreau had fallen through his bloody ceiling, at the front of the private funeral.

Everyone's heads were down. Maybe it was the Order showing respect, dressed in Muggle attire to blend in, or maybe they were too afraid to look at what was coming, with the grim knowledge of just how that boy had died.

The coffin was pulled from the hearse by six strong men, all wearing suits. The silence dwelled as they entered the open grave and gently lowered it into the hole in the ground.

The coffin itself was dark stained cherry red and it was perfectly polished and immaculate. It seemed inviting. It was good at least, in a macabre kind of way, to know that Renee's kid brother was resting in what Sirius hoped was a comfortable place.

Sirius held Renee's shaky hand the entire time, against what she wanted, she kept trying to pull away. She wiped tears onto the long sleeve of her black lace dress and rested her head against her shoulder.

The poor thing kept it together until the minister passed around a Muggle photograph of her and her brother to everyone and that was when the memories came flooding back to Renee again.

Her brother's face seemed so alive and happy and Renee couldn't help but wonder what Billy looked like underneath that closed wooden box.

She stared blankly at it, hoping that one of these wizards would work their magic somehow, that a miracle would happen, and Billy would rise again and come back to the world, come back to Renee.

But nothing happened. Billy was dead. Gone. Renee cried as if the ferocity of it might bring Billy back; as if by the sheer force of her grief the news would be undone. He was her _brother_ , her only sibling and he could not be _gone_.

Even from the top of the street curtains were twitching as neighbors craned to locate the source of the screaming sobs.

Both Sirius and Remus tried to hold her back, to calm her, even as his own tears fell thick and fast, his tears were for her, not the kid, but in her hysteria, she was too strong, too wild.

After whirling about, unable to look through her puffy eyes at the photograph a second longer, she tumbled out of the men's arms and onto the rain-kissed street.

Sirius watched her go, dissolved in the kind of despair that can take one's mind prisoner and never give it back. Once in the open, she sank down to her knees in the middle of the street, bathed in the headlamps of the cars now static before her. Ordinarily, the Muggles in this part of the city around here honk their horns in three seconds flat, but her wailing carried in that damp air, freezing them in place, helpless, just like Sirius, at a loss...

Sirius gnashed his teeth together in anger. He needed to protect Renee and Tonks from Everett's wrath, and Merlin help the man if he dared show his face here, he'd kill him where he stood. He would risk being sent to Azkaban Prison all over again if it meant he could permanently take the Morning Killer off the streets for good, this time.

It was only as he felt a figure nudge beside him, realizing it was Lupin as he watched his wife bolt towards Renee with a speed Sirius didn't even know Dora possessed, knelt on the ground and whispered something inaudible into the shell of the blonde's ear and after a few moments, rose with her, slung an arm over her shoulder and escorted her towards a nearby Muggle café, that he realized how a few hours ago must have seemed to Renee.

The emotional torment of knowing how he had hurt her seemed far worse than anything he could have possibly endured on his own.

Why had he kissed her and then just… _left_? He hated himself.

But Merlin, Renee must hate him by now.

He'd been a blind, bloody fool and did not deserve that girl in his life and had no idea what to fix it.

Sirius cringed as he caught Lupin staring at him quizzically out of the corner of his eye as they walked towards the River Thames, in the complete opposite direction of where Dora and Renee had gone.

Moony must have been able to sense his hesitation and initial reluctance to leave her alone with just his cousin for company, for Remus quickly spoke up in his quiet, reserved way.

"Dora will look after Renee, Sirius. Your… _friend_ is in good hands," he muttered, looking away.

It did not escape Sirius's attention that Moony had placed a heavy 'emphasis' on the word 'friend,' and he could tell by the look in Remus's brown eyes, that he knew the bloody full truth of his feelings.

"I…I _left_ her, Remus," he blurted out, inwardly cringing at the awkwardness of this whole damned sticky situation he'd gotten himself into. "I…we…I kissed her," Sirius confessed, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark maroon coat, the gust of cold wind on this dreary Friday morning blowing his shoulder-length dark hair off his shoulders, and his bangs off of his forehead.

Lupin furrowed his brows in a quandary as the two men and friends walked alongside the sidewalk for a moment, wanting to put as much distance between themselves and the funeral as possible.

"I don't understand," he said at last. "If you truly care for Renee, then…why did you leave her?"

Sirius had been asking himself that same question for hours on end, wracking his brain and trying to come up with an answer, not able to do it.

The choice had seemed obvious at the time, but now it permeated his every thought.

There had been such an urgency to it at the time, that he hadn't wanted to take advantage of her that way. But now, he wished there was another way.

"Did she like it?" came the soft voice of Remus, warmer and kinder than it had been before with no hard edges to it.

It was cautious, however, which Sirius was quick to recognize, and he knew what his best mate was bloody thinking. It was in Moony's eyes.

He felt his cheeks flush in color.

"I don't know," Sirius grumbled darkly under his breath, but he immediately felt the sudden rise of a burning heat around his neck at the declaration of her name and felt the constraint of his collared shirt beneath his maroon velvet coat as he inappropriately thought of Renee's lips pressing fervently against his, her fingers almost clawing at his shirt, reaching for something indescribable, but that he himself had recognized.

"I—I mean…" Sirius quickly stammered, trying to correct himself, as he pointedly averted his gaze from Remus, wishing to rid his mind of the image. "I—I don't, that's none of your business, Moony!"

Ending his statement by raising his already hoarse voice at the very person he was seeking advice from was not perhaps the smartest choice he could have made, but he felt as though Remus were pushing him into a corner with no way out.

He was trying to make sense of all this in his mind, but he seemed to be going nowhere, fast.

Sirius furrowed his brows in a frown. He was beginning to regret his decision to come to Moony with his problems, but he had no one else to ask.

Moony was married with a kid, knew about these things now. It wasn't as if Remus lacked experience!

"I…after it happened, I—I didn't think, and I…I just left her standing there, like an idiot!" His voice turned rough and the words died upon his tongue, which wanted nothing more than to refuse their release, but his brain wouldn't let it.

Sirius felt his thoughts start to swirl faster in his mind, and he flinched at the look of dawning outrage and anger flitting across Remus's face.

" _What_?! Oh, Sirius, tell me you _didn't_ ," implored Remus, and Lupin's suspicions were only confirmed when Sirius averted his gaze and ducked his head in shame, turning away from him. " _Merlin_ , Dora and I told you to _talk_ with Renee, to confess your feelings, not to—to ravage her like some wild _wolf_! No _wonder_ she could hardly speak to you today! So, Renee thinks you just left her and that's it?!"

Remus was looking at Sirius in such dismay as if the man hardly knew him at all now. Lupin stared at him accusingly. Even _he_ would have been more tactful at making an exit, but he didn't have to.

"Th—that wasn't the plan!" Sirius shot back. "I—I had every intention of…talking to Renee…"

"Did you tell any of this at all to Miss Barreau?" Remus sighed, sounding exasperated as he pinched at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "She's strong. She will understand."

"No," Sirius confessed, feeling more than utterly humiliated. "I—I couldn't. I was ashamed. Given my… _history_ , I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you and Dora would imagine I might stoop that low," he growled begrudgingly. "Anyway…none of it matters anymore, Remus."

"What? What do you mean?" Lupin demanded, alarm ridden in his usually quiet, polite, soft tone.

Sirius blearily lifted his chin to better meet his best mate's gaze. "I mean to send her away," he offered with a sadly sympathetic smile. "From me. She is not safe back at Headquarters. Near me…"

"But… _why_?" Remus demanded in a gruff-sounding voice that almost sounded…well, _wolfish_.

"I can't keep Barreau around anymore, Moony," barked Sirius, his impatience starting to seep through his voice as he tried desperately to make his best mate understand his perspective of this. "I don't…trust myself, and you know as well as I do no good can possibly come of having her around. She's in danger, and I promised her I'd take care of Everett. _Alone_ ," he emphasized through gritted teeth. "It's what she wants. Do you understand?"

As Sirius thought of what to say next, Black quickly realized he'd lost his train of thought, then. Of course, he bloody didn't want Barreau to leave the otherwise safety of his home, to leave his side, not with a madman like Everett on the loose, but nor did he trust himself to not be able to control his urges.

"What are you going to do about Renee?" asked Remus softly, his shoulders slumping forward in defeat, recognizing the note of finality in Sirius's voice that almost was bordering on indifference.

Sirius, almost sanguinely, lifted his head and turned towards his best friend with almost a furtive, guilty expression on his handsome face.

"She cannot return home to her flat. He'll be expecting it and it's too dangerous for her. He'll find her unless I can get to him first. For all I know, he's already here," he growled angrily. "I was hoping she could go with you."

Lupin parted his lips open slightly to speak, though before he could so much as utter the first syllable, a rough, hoarse voice coming from directly behind Sirius rendered both young men frozen solid.

"You'd be _right_ in that regard, Black," whisper-hissed the Morning Killer into the shell of his ear.

* * *

The autumn in early October settled over London with gentle ease, bringing with it the changing of the leaves of the trees in brilliant hues of reds, browns, and oranges.

Everett loved this type of weather. It invigorated him, brought new life to his wretched soul, taking away the hot, heady heat of summer and bringing with it crisp fresh air and new life.

Admittedly, the weather was not the only thing he was enjoying, as the wretched werewolf across the sidewalk was eyeballing him with an abject look of horror on his face and found himself disarmed of his wand before he could even it raise it to his chest.

Everett lazily caught the wolf's wand in his hand and held his wand to the column of Black's throat and held Remus Lupin's wand out in front of him, aimed directly at his head, the moment he caught the wolf taking a cautious step forward to advance upon his position.

"I don't _think_ so. Not one more step, _wolf_ ," he snarled angrily. The fingers of his wand hand itched and gave a painful spasm, almost teeming with anticipation at what was to come next.

Everett couldn't wait to get his hands on the little blonde Muggle girl that had made his life a confusing torpid whirl of frustration ever since she had given him that cup of water in the lobby. Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin was currently the only obstacle standing in his way of getting what he wanted, but he'd soon take care of the witch.

He'd take care of all of them, and then, it was just him and Renee Elizabeth Barreau, yes.

Everett couldn't wait to get his hands around the Tonks woman's throat before plunging his own two bare hands into her chest and taking her heart.

It would be a fitting end to the one who had so coldly given his own son a death sentence.

Bloody, violent deaths the Muggle way was always his favorite. He was growing increasingly frustrated and impatient to take the blonde bitch for himself, and more than anxious to get this little farce over with, not sure how much longer he could wait.

He supposed it was a good thing he'd attended the wake for the kid in secret, then…

" _Tell_ me, _Sirius_ ," Everett heard himself whisper into Sirius Black's ear, his ironclad grip around the man's waist tightening, preventing his escape or Disapparating. "How's your precious home's _security_ situation these days? I'd hate for anything to happen to your new little _plaything_ , Black. I heard about how you just…up and left the poor girl _alone_ , how absolutely _atrocious_ of you. _Seriously_ , Sirius?" he taunted, wishing he had more time to savor the look of abject horror and shock in the man's narrowing pale grey orbs, and the werewolf's as well, whose already peaky face had paled a shade further and turned an interesting green hue.

Sirius Black's eyes blazed with a wave of intense anger as he dipped into the pocket of his maroon jacket for his wand, though Everett's arm shot out with lightning speed, trapping the man's wrist, and pinning his arm violently behind his back, twisting it.

" _You—you bastard! You—son of a bitch_!" Black shouted, fighting almost tooth and nail to get free, though his efforts were in vain.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Black. Lupin," he added almost as an afterthought, still keeping his voice calm and collected, in spite of the growing anger welling as a hot-fire seed of rage in his chest.

"This—this isn't the way. We can _help_ you. Just…let Sirius go, let us help you, and no one else needs to get hurt," the accursed wretch of a werewolf called out in a cautious, calm voice that infuriated Everett to no end.

The sickeningly prideful way Lupin was behaving almost made him kill him there on the spot, but he had no quarrel with the _dog_ , only her.

Everett was grateful the hood of his thick black woolen robes concealed most of the features of his face, so neither man would see how flushed and red his face was becoming, and he practically growled with the effort to restrain himself from killing both wizards in the middle of broad daylight.

A flaring, white-hot rage temporarily blinded the edges of his vision as fleeting images of his wife and son flooded his tormented mind before that bitch had arrested his son. Before his sweet, lovely Helen had died…

" _My_ family deserved better. Tell me why _yours_ still draws breath, when mine is _dead_?" Everett hissed, clenching his fists, and digging the tip of his wand even further into the column of Sirius's throat.

Everett squeezed his eyes shut, willing the worst of his temper to quell.

The time was almost upon him to act.

He needed to _wait_ , and could not afford to lose control prematurely, or else…or _else_ … He didn't like to think about it.

This time, he really did let out a growl of frustration and bared his teeth, the edges of his lips curling upward to reveal his pink gums.

"That _bitch_ as good as killed my _son_!" he shouted, not even caring if the Muggle passerby shot them all fearful, questioning looks.

If they were smart, they'd stay the hell away. He stifled another growl that threatened to escape at the back of his throat as his fingers twitched. Everett had just about reached his limit. His entire body convulsed with the effort not to kill.

"My _wife_ had nothing to do with your _family_ ," Remus Lupin snapped, his peaky appearance becoming almost pallid, and he swayed a moment. For a second, it almost looked like he was going to faint, but the younger man quickly composed himself and stood up straight to his full height, determination, and resolve etched upon his face.

_Stupid_. A brave wizard, but _stupid_. _He's probably a Gryffindor_ , Everett thought darkly.

"Watch what you say around me," growled Everett, removing his wand and lowering it, so now the tip was digging squarely into Black's broad chest. Black ceased his struggling and became still. Everett quickly shot a glance to the left and right. No other witnesses around that he could see.

_Good_. He needed to wrap this up quickly.

"I'd think very carefully about your next steps, Black. You _too_ , Lupin," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I'm taking Barreau, and we're going away today. If you come after us, the bitch _dies_ , and you're not going to like how I do it."

Remus's face rapidly paled.

He was talking about Tonks, he could see it in the counselor's eyes. He swallowed down thickly past the lump in his throat and dared to take a cautious half-step forward, his hands raised in a show of surrender.

But when he managed to regain control of his voice, though it shook, it was calm and laced with just a slight tinge of rage that Everett thought admirable in the wretched werewolf, though he would never dare admit to anyone, especially him.

"If you step one _foot_ inside our house, Everett, you're _mine_. I don't care _how_ it happens, I will do what is necessary to protect my family. You're threatening my family and I will not tolerate it," he said, his light brown eyes flashing with rage and his tone cold and calculating. "If you so much as set one foot inside, if you do anything to cause harm to that Muggle girl _or_ to my wife and son, I won't hesitate to kill you where you stand. Do I make myself clear?"

Satisfied for now, Everett sheathed his wand and pulled his hood tighter around his face.

He laughed cruelly at seeing the rage in the werewolf's eyes as he relinquished his grip on Sirius Black and shoved the dark-haired man forward so violently that the younger wizard almost tripped, and likely would have, had Remus Lupin not shot out an arm to catch his fall at the last second.

"I look forward to killing you both, Mr. Lupin, I'll try not to make too much of a _mess_ ," he said, grinning wickedly and leaving the shaken men alone to ponder his words.

He sincerely hoped he'd get the chance to duel him later.

Everett, without another word, stalked towards the Muggle café, his hands shaking.

It was time to bring Renee Barreau home.


	28. Chapter 28

Obliviously unaware that the Morning Killer was heading straight towards their table outside the café that Tonks had led Renee to, Renee stared across the table at her friend, looking absolutely mortified beyond belief at the way the young witch stared at her.

"Oh, Mrs. Lupin, please don't _look_ at me like that," she begged, taking note of the concerned way the pink-haired young witch was apprehensively eyeing her, absentmindedly stirring her hot tea with her spoon, not really thirsty at all. Tonks shrugged her shoulders by way of response, not really sure what to say to the young woman who she had started to consider a friend.

But even Renee could not argue that she was troubled. Thin, not eating much, wasting away. And Tonks was utterly unconvinced. After a few moments spent in an awkward silence, the young witch and Auror spoke up, sounding hesitant, as though she did not want to broach the subject at all, and yet, it felt imperative that she had to do it.

"I hope I'm not stepping out of bounds here, Renee, but…did something…happen between you and—" Tonks started to ask, but she was cut off.

"Nothing happened," Renee responded, perhaps a little too quickly and curtly than she would have liked, almost choking on her tea as she reluctantly took a sip. "The—the others haven't been saying anything inappropriate, have they, Tonks?"

Tonks blinked owlishly at the young blonde across from the café table, though she quickly recovered, forcing her expression to one of neutrality, though she knew she looked more than a little shocked by Renee's desperate reaction.

"No. At least, nothing like that which you seem to be referring to," Tonks was careful to answer in a gentle, non-judgmental tone. "But…earlier this morning, when Sirius went up to your room to check on you, did something happen to you?"

Tonks fell silent and pretended to absentmindedly pick at the cuticles of her nails to save the Muggle the embarrassment of her looking at her while Renee searched for her words, all the while cautiously studying the young blonde out of the corner of her eye. She took in notice how her face was flushed, her cheeks almost a rosy pink.

Something unspoken had _definitely_ transpired between this girl and Sirius, Tonks was sure of it. But she did not want to pressure Renee too much for an answer. Doing so in her current emotionally vulnerable state, with her grieving the loss of her six-year-old brother, might just be the one thing that would send her over the edge.

Nevertheless, Tonks knew she wanted to help her new friend, and as a consequence, she was going to have to know more, but there was, unfortunately, no delicate way to broach the issue.

Renee opened her mouth to reply, but upon seeing the concern flitting its way across Mrs. Lupin's pale features, and she realized that if her friend, and at this point, Renee very much considered Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin a friend, had opened up and confided in her, then Renee supposed it was only right she return that trust.

If she was being completely honest with herself, Renee had tried her hardest over the last several hours to put the fact that Black had kissed her from her mind. Leading up to the wake, she'd not seen Black at all, for which she was secretly glad.

Renee hardly knew what she would say to him by way of response anyway. Not now, at least.

"Ah, well," she began, sounding more vulnerable than any other time in her life, "something did happen earlier. It—it wasn't _supposed_ to happen. He'd shouted at me, sort of," she grumbled, furrowing her brows in a frown as she recognized how angry Sirius had been upon learning how she was refusing to eat anything.

Tonks sat patiently across the table, not giving anything away and instead waited for Renee to speak, giving the young blonde woman ample time to collect her thoughts. Somehow, the young witch knew the young Muggle needed a moment or two to gather her thoughts about what had happened.

Renee paused, finding herself unable to speak and her breaths caught in her throat, and she saw for the fourth or fifth time in the span of the last three hours what had been circling in her mind ever since Sirius had crossed that invisible threshold. She could still feel his searing hot touch, smell how he smelled strangely of pinewood, and the intense way Black had looked at her, then.

"He kissed you, didn't he," Tonks answered after a moment, taking pity on Renee, saving her friend from having to state the painfully obvious fact that was all over the young woman's face by way of rosy pink blush on her cheeks.

Renee quickly nodded her head and glanced down at her hands, resting in her lap, and fidgeting with the skirts of her black lace dress skittishly.

"I'm sorry," Tonks replied, not giving her new friend a chance to respond, sounding saddened and yet at the same time, her tone sounded clipped, as if she were trying to suppress anger. "If I had known my cousin was going to do that to you, maybe I could have done something to stop it. Clearly, he overstepped, and it was way too soon."

Renee startled so badly she almost dropped her spoon as she looked up, confused, only to find Tonks staring fiercely at her, a horrible look of anger and contempt that turned her pale grey orbs into narrowed slits, flashing, steely, and quite cold. The young woman, for a moment, mistook the look of shock and anger on Tonks's face to be directed towards her, and it scared Renee. Badly.

"N—no, why… I—I didn't _dislike_ it, Tonks," Renee quickly stammered faintly, watching in relief as Tonks's anger rapidly melted away, and let out a sigh. "I…liked it," she admitted in a sheepish tone.

"You…you liked it?" Tonks asked cautiously.

Renee's light little ghost of a smile flitted across her face as she heard the slight lilt in Tonks's voice.

As embarrassing as it was to revisit the memory that was fresh in her mind, as she spoke of it, Renee could already feel a little weight begin to be lifted off her shoulders, and she could think of no one better than Tonks to confide in for this kind of thing, given she was more experienced in these matters. Renee had only ever known abuse at John Newell's hand.

Never affection…or…love. Wait. _Love_? Renee's blue eyes widened as her face drained of color as she swallowed thickly past the lump in her throat, forcing thoughts of the foreign emotion to the back of her mind for now, thinking there was no way in hell he felt…that for her, if anything.

"Well, he was…gentle at first, but then I sort of…felt myself moving of my own accord. It felt like someone else was in control of my movements, like I was…watching myself from the ceiling or something. It's weird to speak of it in this way, but it's what I felt at the moment," Renee whispered.

Tonks felt her eyebrows shoot so far up onto her forehead as she regarded Renee. It sounded almost like she was describing the Imperius Curse. But not even _Sirius_ would stoop _that_ low…

Tonks nodded her head as she listened to Renee, and despite the grim mood of the funeral the two had just attended, shot a soft smile the young Muggle's way, hoping it brought her some small measure of comfort in the dark times ahead.

"Well…whatever happened up there, I'm happy for you, Renee," Tonks murmured quietly under her breath, and she really did genuinely sound as though she was. "And I'm sure my cousin is happy as well…"

At the utterance of her friend's words, Renee looked sharply towards Tonks across the table and all traces of the faint ghost of a smile on her face promptly disappeared, making the young witch immediately think that she'd said the wrong thing.

"I don't know about that," Renee whispered, causing Tonks to become even more alarmed by her friend's words, and Tonks found herself leaning forward in her seat, resting her head in her hands as her elbows propped up against the table.

"What do you mean?" Tonks asked, hoping her tone didn't come across as prying, though she felt it was already too late. That ship had long sailed.

The young blonde fell silent and stared into her full mug of tea, unsure of how exactly to respond.

"H—he left me standing there alone in the bedroom, a—as soon as he realized his mistake."

Tonks blinked owlishly at Renee, feeling certain she had misheard.

"Mistake?" she repeated in a faint voice, wishing that Renee would lift her chin and look her in the eyes. "What happened between you two to make you think Sirius thought what he was doing was a mistake?" Tonks questioned.

Renee didn't immediately reply, but it was the sole thing alongside her brother's death that soured her mood, and knowing Everett was still out there, somewhere, four days after finding… She swallowed hard, shoving thoughts of her brother to the back of her mind for now, not wanting her mind to dwell on that horrible image.

"H—he seemed…shocked. Like… _frustrated_ …" Renee whispered, suddenly sounding ashamed to admit it. "He kissed me and then he…he left me alone, Tonks."

Tonks nodded her head slowly at all of the information as her mind processed her friend's words.

"If I could, perhaps he left because he realized it was a mistake, but because he…he knew that if he stayed with you, then he wouldn't be able to…to control himself," she finished lamely, inwardly cringing at the look of dawning shock and outrage on Renee's face as her already pale face became even more pallid as what little color was left in her cheeks drained upon hearing Tonks's words, realizing why Sirius had left.

Renee spluttered and stammered, trying to think of a retort, before finally, she seemed to have found her words at last. "W—well, i—if that's the case then he's—"

"Beastly? Barbaric? A brute?" Tonks offered dryly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she threw out suggestions for names for the girl to call her cousin.

But Renee shook her head, anger still present and quite evident upon her features. Her lips parted open slightly to speak, though a man's deep baritone voice split the otherwise silent air around the pair of women and interrupted whatever Tonks had been about to say next.

"A _monster_ , Miss Barreau, is what Black is. You'd do _well_ to stay away from him," came the cold, listless voice of Everett, the man's towering silhouette casting a lengthy shadow over Renee as the Morning Killer moved to stand directly behind the young blonde Muggle girl.

Tonks immediately bolted from her chair, her wand pointed squarely at the man's chest, though before she could part her lips to utter even a single hex the man's way, her wand was flown from her hands and into Everett's outstretched waiting palm, without the man even having to utter a single incantation verbally.

"Hello, Auror Tonks," the man answered plainly by way of response, not bothering to wait before one of his strong, calloused hands came to grip onto Renee's shoulder and Renee felt herself being pulled roughly up out of her chair and propelled backward as he yanked her to follow and match his movements. "I do apologize for greeting you under such dreadful circumstances," he said in a voice that did not sound sorry at all. "The girl and I are _leaving_. _Don't_ follow us or attempt to try anything or I'll kill every last person in this vicinity, starting with you, and then your husband, and your abomination of a little whelp you dare to call your son."

Renee's shoulders tensed. What little color she had left in her face drained, and she dared not turn around. He must have been a mind reader or something, for his next words sent a chill of cold down Renee's spine.

"Don't turn around, sweetheart," he advised in a calm, collected voice. "That's it," he murmured, leaning down to whisper it into the shell of Barreau's right ear. "If you want your stupid friends alive for a few more precious moments, you'll do what I say and come quietly. Don't speak at all. Come. _Now_ …"

"Please don't do this," Renee managed to croak out in a hoarse whisper. "Everett?" she begged, hoping showing the man even an ounce of kindness as she had the other day when she'd given the man the cup of water at the visitors' lobby of that strange wizard prison, not to mention the countless times she'd served him black coffee and his favorite muffin at the Broken Spoon Café, would placate him from whatever it was that he was about to do to her and to Tonks and Lupin.

To Sirius. Against her better judgment, she looked up, and Renee immediately wished she hadn't.

Pain shot through her right arm as Renee felt the man twist her arm behind her back in a tight vice grip, and she felt the warmth of blood pouring down her neck.

She wondered what the bloody hell was going on. And then she felt the tip of his knife before she saw it. Felt the tip of his silver gleaming blade dig into the skin of her neck, the column of her throat held hostage.

Renee looked up and her fear was so overwhelming and powerful, she couldn't even scream for Sirius or Remus to come, and Tonks was standing right in front.

"Let her _go_ ," Tonks warned in a slightly warbling voice. " _Don't_ touch her," she continued in a low voice that Renee could only describe as almost a low growl.

"No, I don't think I will. I'll _kill_ her if you take one more step, _bitch_ , test me again. I dare you. Go on, do it, _witch_ ," Everett snarled, having sensed the warbling note in the Auror's voice. He stepped towards Tonks and she lashed out, but he wasn't close enough, and Renee let out a pitiful mewl of fear as she felt the point of the knife dig deep.

"Don't do this, Tonks. It's…it's okay, it's…it's going to be okay," Renee begged, sensing Tonks about to open her mouth to argue with the man to attempt to reason with him. Renee did not think she could take it if another person died. For her. Because of her.

If going with Everett meant that Tonks and the others would be safe, then she could live with such a death. She flinched as Everett's grip tightened.

The pain of her arm being twisted forced her to move her body around until she was practically pressed up against Everett's strong, firm body. He stood there, tall, looming, powerful, handsome, dressed totally in black.

His piercing eyes almost seemed to glow green and he tilted his head to the side as he looked upon Renee.

Tears began to come to her lids as she felt his hand come to rest on her shoulder and start to bear down, hard. Renee grunted and struggled with the effort to break free of Everett's grip, but he was too strong.

She was no match for this man.

His free hand went to squeeze the back of her neck and she felt his hips press against the back of her thighs. Renee blew out a shaking breath of cold air, steeling herself for the worst. But it never came. Instead, Everett's hand left the back of her neck and softly ran through her hair.

"Shh…." He whispered in an almost tender voice.

"Please," she wept. "Please don't kill me," she begged, biting down on her bottom lip hard enough to crack the skin and cause it to bleed, and her fears were worsened and intensified when she could hear Sirius and Lupin's voices in not-so-distant-background now.

 _No_ , she thought wildly, her eyes flinging wide open. _No, no, no, no, Black was supposed to stay away_!

Her heart dropped to the pit of her churning stomach and her head jerked upright, just in time to see Sirius's pale face glowering at Everett with a look that Barreau could only describe as unbridled hatred.

"Oh, _good_ , more surprise visitors," Everett drolled in a bored-sounding voice. "Look, Barreau. Black has decided to grace us all with the pleasure of his _exquisite_ company." But he fell silent and watched as Sirius took a moment to wordlessly assess the situation for himself.

Renee squared her shoulders as Sirius cautiously approached, his chin raised, but fear present in his eyes. "If I go with you, will you promise not to hurt anyone else?" Renee whispered, speaking solely to him.

Judging by the way she saw Sirius give a start at her words, and the way his face drained of colors as his head whiplashed sharply upward to regard Renee, he had not considered that Renee would sacrifice herself.

" _What are you doing, Barreau_?" Sirius shouted, balling his hands into fists, and plunging into the interior pocket of his maroon velvet coat for his wand.

Everett paused, bowing his head in a gesture of faux humility. "By Merlin and His Light, I swear it," Everett swore in a voice dripping with false sympathy. "I can see how _hard_ this choice is on all of you. Particularly _you_ , Black," he taunted in a voice that gave away the sadistic man was truly enjoying watching this.

A tense moment where no one spoke. Lupin and Tonks exchanged horrified glances with Sirius and Renee, their gazes nervously flitting towards Everett.

Sirius watched with mounting horror as Renee nervously glanced over at him, her blue eyes wide and eerily glassy.

For a moment, he wished he were a Legilimens, like Tonks's best mate alongside Charlie Weasley's was. He wished he knew where Ollie lived, he'd find the bastard and make him teach him how.

"Will you let me say goodbye?" she asked Everett. The man shrugged and waved his hand as he made no move to relinquish his grip on her arm, as if to say yes.

"I'll allow it. But you have _one minute_. That's _it_." His words escaped from deep within his chest as a low, threatening growl, and Everett did not release Renee's arm from his ironclad grip, though he stepped forward with her, his movements careful and precise as he allowed Renee a moment to say goodbye to her friends.

He stopped so that Renee's pallid face was only inches away from Sirius's face, so close that she could see a muscle in his jaw twitch. "I don't want either of you to worry about me," she whispered breathlessly. "Everything will be just fine," Renee managed to speak.

" _What the bloody Merlin-damned hell are you doing, Renee_?" Sirius shouted, fighting to control his voice. " _You can't be serious, Barreau! Tell me you aren't thinking of doing this, going with him?!_ " he demanded angrily, his gaze nervously flitting from Renee to him.

But Renee sniffed and shook her head as she reached up a trembling hand and brushed Black's dark bangs from his eyes.

"I can't do that, Black," she offered up a weak smile that did not reach her crystalline blue eyes. "If I don't go, he'll hunt you _and_ the rest of you," she said, glancing towards Lupin and Tonks for confirmation.

Tonks shot her husband a pained look. Remus looked as though he wanted to say something but closed his mouth and thought better of it when the young Muggle woman shot him a warning.

The mask of calm she had perfected had begun to crumble, tears spilling onto her cheeks and her lips pressing tightly shut to suppress the sob that threatened to escape. Words failed Sirius.

No one, no _woman_ had ever done something of this magnitude for him before him. Confronted by Barreau's terrified eyes and seeing the bleeding wound on her neck, Sirius was taken back to a time when he'd watched the consequences as someone else he cared for had chosen death over the alternative.

How James and Lily had sacrificed themselves to protect the life of their son.

And now Renee was doing the same…for _him_. He did not think he could handle it.

"No, _please_ ," he moaned, hardly aware of Lupin and Tonks standing beside him, not even feeling Moony's hand on his arm.

Renee bit down on her lip as the sob escaped, and she reached for the man's shoulders and steadied him.

Her gaze lingered on Sirius though she forced herself to look at Lupin and Tonks as well, though eventually, her eyes settled and remained fixated on Sirius.

"Thank you. For…for _everything_. You've changed my life in more ways than I can admit. This is for the best, Black. I was…I was never even supposed to _be_ here, to know that…that any of this even bloody exists."

She let out a soft, albeit saddened chuckle as she swallowed and turned her gaze back toward Sirius.

"I… I'm _never_ gonna find anyone like you. There's only _one_ like you, Black, but…don't let it go to your head," Renee whispered hoarsely, blinking back her tears to no avail, and before she could lose her resolve, she leaned forward and planted a soft, sincere kiss on his lips. "Don't forget me, Black, ever," she pleaded.

She flinched the moment she heard a low growl come from behind her, Everett's voice, and she knew her moment was up.

"All right, that's enough," he growled. "You're making me sick, you little Muggle bitch. _Move_." And in an instant, Everett had Renee by the shoulders. He hauled her backward away from Sirius, and her hands, her lips, her warmth left Sirius again, along with his last shred of self-control and his sanity.

" **RENEE**!" Every breath felt like his last, every breath made him ache for it to be his last. His screams echoed in his head filling the silence with burning flames of self-loathing. He did this to himself, he was the one who danced with the devil bidding on his heart.

It was all his fault, what was he thinking about playing with fire? Didn't he know he was going to burn, and now Renee too? Didn't he know gasoline ran in his veins?

All he needed was a flame, a touch of fire, and it ignited the spark within his veins, and he couldn't control his magic anymore. He held out his hands in shock. Pulsing from his fingertips was a strange, bright light that surged through his veins like electricity.

He watched it flicker, changing colors from amber to ruby and then back to gold as it crackled and snapped. Sirius clenched his fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palms. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Not like _this_ , but it was too late to stop it from happening. It felt like fire was rushing his veins, and Sirius was unable to stop the moan from escaping his lips as his vision shifted and the world around erupted into violent colors, colors not even on the human spectrum. At first, it hurt, but then he was filled with raw, unbridled rage, a surge of confidence and power.

 _Renee_. _Save Renee_. That was his goal now. Kill Everett, prevent the man from killing and hurting her.

Renee's eyes widened at the awe-inspiring and horrifying sight before her as Sirius's magic literally coursed through his veins, and she wondered if the streets were safe, if he couldn't control it, if he could very likely explode if they couldn't get the man somewhere safe.

But she did not have time to ponder this as Everett in a surprising show of calm, dragged his fingertips over her cheekbones before his hand slid to the back of her hair.

Renee did not have time to register the pain that engulfed her as he tugged on a tuft of her short blonde hair, pulling her head back.

In a swift movement, he shoved her head back towards the same café table Everett had forcefully removed her from, and her forehead slammed onto the hard surface with a loud, sickening thud.

Renee immediately saw spots blotting her vision and a little cry of pain left her lips. Her eardrums were filled with a horrible, fatigued ringing. She heard Sirius shouting.

"Shh," Everett whispered again to Renee, and her head was slammed down again a second time, harder than the first. This time, the young Muggle woman felt no pain and heard no thud, but she saw only blackness.

Renee was not awake when Everett hefted her into his arms, carrying her bridal style as though she weighed little more than a sack of potatoes, her head lolling back and resting against the crook of his elbow.

She was already unconscious when the man Disapparated with her, and as a result, did not see Sirius's hand outstretched, his fingers groping for her hand, nor did she feel the pads of his fingertips ghost along the edges of the top of her palm as Sirius desperately reached for Renee, and he was too late.

Everett's hold tightened on Renee, and the bastard Disapparated with a loud, resounding crack! leaving Tonks, Lupin, and Sirius now standing alone on the sidewalk just outside of the Muggle café in London.

 _No, no, no_! He throttled his urge to roar like an enraged Hungarian Horntail, shaking his head wildly and shutting his eyes as he embraced his thrusting shoulders.

Sirius wasn't sure he'd ever felt such shivering, such revolt and disgust inside of him before at what he'd done to Renee. He felt his body go limp as his remaining strength dragged on his throat.

He slowly dropped himself to the sidewalk, to his knees.

His mind rioted with desperation, wanting to know why Merlin had forsaken him to the seven layers of hell, why life seemed to hate him so much, and now, Fate, that cruel bastard, had taken Renee from him, the one thing he had sworn to Dumbledore to protect.

Sirius began to scream.


	29. Chapter 29

Wherever Everett had brought her, it didn't take long for Renee to soak through the blindfold through her tears, and she was entirely too afraid to be disgusted with her own behavior, thinking more important matters were at hand here.

Growing up with just her kid brother around, Billy had always been a huge fan of horror films, the gorier and more disgusting the better, and whenever Renee saw peoples' reactions on screen, the young woman swore she would never let herself act that way in such a scenario.

At least, that's what she bloody well _told_ herself.

 _She_ , on the other hand, would be proud, brave, strong, and smart enough not to fall for the killer's ruse. And yet, here she bloody was, blindfolded, her wrists bound by a pair of handcuffs that she suspected the creep had enchanted somehow with that wand of his, considering they weren't coming off at all, no matter how much she wriggled her wrists.

Grunting with the effort to afford to trip over the hem of her black lace dress as Everett wordlessly steered her towards what she presumed was going to be some kind of a holding place, Renee found herself at a loss.

At a loss, utterly confused, cold, frightened, and struck to the bone with a horrible, debilitating fear that she didn't know how to react to her current precarious position. The fact that she had essentially sacrificed her _freedom_ so that Lupin, Tonks, and Sirius would all be safe.

The fear that pricked at her heartstrings was bloody cold, raw, and a horrible, lonely terror that was clouding Renee's judgment, rendering her unable to think straight, much less see at all.

 _Oh wait, that was the blindfold_ , Renee thought bitterly to herself, letting out a muffled squeak of surprise as Everett's firm grip on her shoulder loosened and she felt herself being shoved to the hardwood floor, having to throw out her wrists to catch her fall and not break any bones in the process, which was easier said than done. The force of his shove was quite impactful.

Renee yanked futilely at her handcuffs, but the only thing she succeeded in doing was digging the harsh metal more into the skin of her wrists, causing them to bleed, and more tears came to her eyes as she struggled to think at all.

She wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of her lungs with every ounce of breath her heaving lungs could muster in the hopes that someone, hopefully, Sirius or Lupin, would hear.

Considering Tonks was a new mother to that precious baby with the gift to change his hair color that Renee wished she had, she decided she didn't want the witch anywhere near this perverted creep if she could at all help it.

 _No. Better that Tonks stays away_ , she hoped. Renee breathed an audible sigh of relief as she felt her blindfold being pulled off of her, and yet, as her vision slowly but surely cleared, her kidnapper was nowhere in her line of sight at all.

To say this unnerved her was an understatement. _I bet he's using his magic to trick me, to turn this into some sort of game_ …

Renee swallowed thickly as she fought to tamper the scream that threatened to escape her lips, though she wanted nothing more than to let herself break down and just weep. But she couldn't. Her own death was not a thing she had any intention of hastening, and the longer she could stay alive and keep Everett placated, the better if it meant there was a chance help came.

Renee grunted through gritted teeth as she yanked hard at the handcuffs binding her wrists as she continued to pull futilely at them in a vain effort to free herself and try to escape this place.

Wherever 'here' happened to be. She looked around the dim, dank room that smelled of mold and blood and God knew what else the pervert had done to his victims in this room, assuming this was where he brought his other ones to die.

Just that thought was enough to incite fresh panic into Renee's bloodstream as a surge of adrenaline compelled her to keep trying to break free. Renee felt a warm trickling of blood that seeped its way down her wrist as she sliced into the soft flesh. The cuts on her palm seemed to have stopped bleeding, as did the gash over her left browbone that probably was going to need stitches, in time, but was already crusting over.

Renee tensed and stilled her movements as she heard the creaking of the wooden floorboards, and after a tense moment, she started yanking at the stupid handcuffs harder.

The young blonde Muggle woman tugged harder, feeling certain Everett was coming to kill her, and dispose of her body the same way he'd done to Billy before he'd move on the next.

Heavy footsteps thudded towards her location where she sat huddled and cowering in the southernmost corner of the desolate room, and she let out a startled yelp of pain the moment she felt the man's gloved hands around her wrists. Everett's hands held her steadfast and firm, preventing her from fighting with her cuffs.

Still, despite her best efforts not to, Renee could feel her lips start to quiver rather violently.

" _Shut. Up_. Be quiet, bitch," Everett whispered in a smooth, languid voice that would have, she supposed, under better and normal circumstances, once made her weak at the knees, but not right now. One hand left her wrists so he could place the pad of his finger against her lips.

"Please don't do this, Everett," Renee whispered in a small, meek sounding voice that did not at all sound like her at all. The hand immediately left her lips and began stroking her cheek tenderly, the way a lover would do. She felt the killer lean forward, not because he was touching her because he currently wasn't, but rather because Renee could sense him moving.

He pressed his nose to the top of her short blonde hair, and Renee instinctively recoiled and tried not to gag. He was… _sniffing_ her. Like a _dog_.

Renee swore she tasted bile as she tried not to gag. But then, the sound of his sniffing slowed, and he breathed in deep and slow, like he was savoring her delectable scent. It was more than a little disturbing, but Renee did the only thing she could. She drew in a breath and held it, waiting for him to stop, feeling his breath ghost over her face as he exhaled through his flaring nostrils.

His breath smelled strangely of mint, and for a moment, Renee had a ridiculous thought that a handsome bloke who kidnapped and murdered people, who would do something like this to her, shouldn't have such nice-smelling breath. She crinkled her nose in disgust and looked up towards him.

"Is…is Sirius okay?" she asked, trying to keep herself under control as she blinked back a fresh wave of tears. "Lupin and Tonks, what about them?" she demanded. She paused slightly to tug harshly against her magically enchanted handcuffs but paused when a new pain shot through her cracked, bleeding skin. "Are they…are they alive?" She saw him move away from her, and she breathed out an audible sigh of relief. "Please…don't hurt them. I'll do whatever you say. Just—don't hurt them!" she breathed, and Renee let out a squeak as Everett turned on the heels of his boots and closed off the gap of space from where he stood on the opposite side of this desolate bedroom.

His hand came up to wind itself around the column of her throat and tightened, squeezing hard.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheek and his free hand went to the back of her hair, pressing in slightly, and the pressure was almost unheard of. Renee found her gaze drifting to the floor.

Whatever kind of bedroom this was, it felt to her more like a cellar of sorts, the floors were done with hardwood, polished oak from the looks, and a neutral colored carpet, the concrete foundation covered with an elaborate wooden paneling.

The room was dimly lit, and her eyes struggled to adjust to the poor lighting, but as Renee looked around, she saw Everett kneeling into a crouch on the balls of his feet a few inches away from her. Slowly he stood and waited, not speaking much.

If she hadn't already known who he was from his time at the Broken Spoon Café, she would have pegged the guy as a mute who didn't talk at all. Not because he _couldn't_ , but because he viewed his words as unnecessary.

When he walked towards her, Renee felt her churning stomach drop even more and bile in her throat as she saw the glistening of silver metal. She looked up to Everett's eyes, those piercing eyes of green, and shook her head.

"Please don't do this, guy, I'm _begging_ you," Renee whispered in a hoarse voice, surprised she could even find her voice at all as Everett took a slow, methodical step closer, almost lovingly and tenderly twirling the knife he held in his hands in his fingers. He raised the knife towards her face, pressing the point of the ice-cold steel against the delicate flesh of her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she waited for her throat to be slit or stabbed to death, but it didn't come.

The knife left her cheek and slowly drifted down, the tip grazing over the skin of her collarbones. Her eyes flung wide open so she could better look her former customer in his piercing eyes of moss green like a lush forest.

The listlessness within made it difficult for Barreau to gauge Everett's attitude, but his lips curved upwards into a truly twisted smirk that made her shudder in revulsion and she looked away. She heard the handsome chap sniff in disapproval and something akin to disappointment. Renee let out a squeak as his rough, calloused hand came up to cup her chin and her head was turned sharply to the right, effectively forcing her to meet his sharp gaze.

"You love him. Black. You do, don't you?" he breathed, halting Renee's squirming as he reached out again with a surprisingly tender touch, pressing the point of his knife at the top button of the bodice of her black lace dress.

Renee let out a muffled whine as he pressed down, and the button popped from her dress and landed just a few inches from his black boots.

"Wh—what are you _doing_?" Renee froze, inhaling a sharp breath of frigid cold air as he moved the knife downward and the second button was cut from her dress's bodice. He made a noise by way of response that was more a growl. A deep, guttural, masculine noise and it made her body wrack with hard, shaking sobs.

His intentions were made quite clear without Everett having to speak a single word, though when he did, his smooth, languid voice that would have, under normal circumstances, along with his looks, were he, not an insane madman, would have made her weak at the knees. Everett was, like it or not, a handsome chap.

A dead ringer for that American actor, bloody _hell_ , what was his name? Joaquin Phoenix, that was it. Billy had always liked the man in that movie about the Roman gladiator. At the mere mention of her kid brother in her mind, Renee was hit with a surge of anger, a vent of adrenaline at what he'd done to Billy. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut with the effort to remain silent, the insult was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

"You made me a _promise_ , Everett. I gave you my word. You have me. You want me. Fine. Take me, then. I came with you so the others wouldn't be hurt," she snapped, unable to keep the note of bitterness and anger and hurt from seeping unbidden to the surface of her trembling voice. "So, you have me, then. Do whatever you're going to do to me, _Pisscloak_ ," she growled in a hardened tone. "And go to hell!" Renee whisper-hissed in the shell of his ear as Everett leaned forward, shivering as his tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick his lips.

He ceased his movements of drawing his knife over the buttons of her lace dress's bodice.

Renee froze, not seeing a scenario of getting through the night in Everett's company without getting assaulted, but she did see a scenario in which would keep herself and Sirius, and the others alive. From the way he was behaving, he just wanted to get his rocks off. She was, sadly to say, when she had been dating John, not used to rough encounters before if that was this one's game. She hoped, prayed, that once Everett took what he wanted from her, he'd leave her alone.

The knife that now hovered in front of the column of her throat, however, was beginning to give Renee some serious doubts about this idea. Renee let out a haggard, shaking sigh as she glanced down at her wrists and gave another futile tug at her magically enchanted handcuffs. No dice. They weren't coming off without the key and the key was currently hanging on a silver chain around Everett's broad, thick neck.

"These _things_ , they work well, don't they? These handcuffs? Your first time using them?" she asked as her huge, blue, doe-like almond-shaped eyes moved back around to meet his. "Our…what do you call the non-magic? Muggles? Yeah." She nodded to herself as if to reassure herself she was using the correct term. "Our 'Muggle' police force would have a field day with cuffs like these. No getting out of these…" Renee let out a soft, albeit nervous chuckle as she took notice of how her Joaquin-Phoenix doppelgänger's lips curved upward into a smile as his gaze drifted down to her cuffs.

Usually, Everett preferred to use sharp wires, but these cuffs were an item best kept unmarked. She'd managed to cut herself, and she might have cut off her birdlike delicate wrists if he'd used anything stronger than what he had.

And yet, there was something satisfying about seeing the young Muggle café owner bound and cowering in the corner of the cellar in his safe house, completely at his mercy, his whims. She was _his_ to do with as he liked, yes.

He looked back towards his body, the bodice of her black lace dress hanging open slightly to reveal a petite and slender, but curvy body. Full breasts, and a black lace bra. He almost resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that.

"I see why he _likes_ you. Black. You truly are a pretty little flower, aren't you, Barreau. So soft, so delicate," he growled, raising the knife, and pressing it once more against the pristine flesh of her cheek, eliciting a shiver of fear from her, watching her bright blue eyes fill to the brim with anger and fear, her lips quivering in earnest of what was to come for her.

Renee's blue eyes widened, and almost darkened, cerulean in color as her head whiplashed sharply upward to regard the killer, and had Everett not yanked the knife in his hand back precisely when he had, he would have surely slit her throat on accident, and that, he did not want. No. He wanted _this_ one to stick around.

"Wh— _what_?" she breathed in a faint whisper, so hushed that Everett thought for a moment, she hadn't spoken at all, and he surely would have missed it had he not leaned forward.

He wanted nothing more than to press his lips to hers, to taste her sweet, succulent kiss, but he resisted, pulling back, fighting against the urge, though he paused, just a few inches from her lips, watching as the blonde girl flinched.

Everett blinked, studying her movements carefully. She had fair skin so white it was almost translucent, like that fairytale princess, Snow White, from the Muggle story his Helen had loved, once upon a time when she was alive.

Renee Barreau had bright blue eyes the color of a robin's egg, or the sky after a fresh summer rainfall, almost crystalline in color. Her pale blue orbs displayed more vulnerability than Everett had seen in any number of his victims in a long bloody time. Yet, the girl was trying so very hard to be strong and resilient, a trait he knew he admired.

Everett found it brought him a satisfying amount of amusement. He moved the blade of his knife, so it rested flat against her right cheek, tilting her head to the other side to look at her.

"You _care_ for him," he answered simply, once more bringing up the topic of Sirius Black, trying and feeling like he was failing to ignore the welling, burning feeling in the pit of his stomach as it swooped and churned, the moment visions of the dark-haired man's handsome visage flitted through the forefront of his mind.

"For Sirius?" she questioned, her voice sounding incredibly small as her gaze lifted to meet his. She blinked owlishly, surprised at the statement he had posed to her that was not exactly a question, but he still demanded an answer. She hesitated, biting down on her lip.

Renee tried her hardest to tamper back on her honesty and contain the truth, but in the end, she couldn't. It would do her no good to lie. "Yes," she confessed, quickly averting his gaze, though she took note of how he flinched.

Everett stiffened, grinding his teeth together. Never before did another man's name, particularly that slippery little _worm_ , Black's, name sound like such a Merlin-damn curse.

What made it even worse was the way Sirius Black's name sounded on Barreau's sweet lips. She had spoken his name just now with such tenderness and _anguish_ that Everett felt his blood boil and he curled his hands tightly in a fist to prevent himself from striking at something in his growing rage, which in this case, would be Renee, and he did not want that.

The question remained was when had Barreau spent enough time around the womanizing wizard to be so familiar with him? He did not like the familiarity in which Barreau spoke Sirius Black's name, nor did he like the growing misty, faraway look in her blue eyes, as though she were remembering something pleasant during her time spent with Sirius.

Stifling a growl deep within the confines of his chest, he patted her cheek affectionately with the side of his dagger, earning a squeak from her pretty pink little lips in return. He let out a sigh.

Everett decided he liked the look of the cold steel of his blade looked against the pristine, unmarked flesh of the woman who was now his new obsession, Nymphadora Tonks long forgotten. Unless, of course, she decided to try to come after them, then he'd have to do something about the bitch and her wolf mate.

"Why do you _care_?" Renee whispered, much to Everett's surprise, and he, not having anticipated the question, looked up at the girl.

Everett did not immediately answer her, reaching up instead and pressing his index finger to her lips for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Shh…." He soothed in his smooth, languid voice, shushing her for what was the third time. "What of Black, Barreau? What would you _do_ to ensure the man's safety?" he growled in a low voice. Before the girl could part open her lips to speak, he cut her off, not giving her a chance as he continued speaking. "Should he _share_ in his lover's fate? Hmm?" he muttered, taking his time in pressing the tip of his blade into her throat. "If you so much as look at me in a manner that displeases me…he will _die_. If one day, you decide to be _noble_ and take your _own_ life, he will _die_."

Everett's head snapped to the side the moment he heard his new precious prize let out a muffled whine, sounding like a wounded dog that had been kicked by its master after misbehaving and turned to look at Renee.

It was the girl that he would take and keep for himself. The man who held her heart, he wanted dead. He let out a haggard sigh and rose abruptly, turning on the heel of his boot and started to stalk out of the bedroom, when she called. " _Please_!" the young blonde woman screamed, her voice cracking. It gave him pause.

There was…something there, a flicker of an unfamiliar emotion. Was it desperation? Anger? He couldn't tell, but it was enough to render him rooted to his spot in front of the front door.

" _Please_!" Renee begged. "Please don't hurt him! I'll do anything! Don't hurt them, _please_ …"

Everett merely looked at Barreau before bringing his finger once more to her luscious lips. She stopped her desperate plea, but continued to gaze up at her captor, her bright blue eyes begging him when her lips couldn't.

The man enjoyed the pleading, desperate look in her blue eyes, quite eager to see it again. He made the split decision that he would keep Black and the others alive…for now, that is.

At the very least, it could possibly lend itself to forcing Barreau's hand to be obedient to his demands better than any form of Muggle torture or the Cruciatus Curse could possibly dish out.

And…if he were to bring Black back here to his safe house, he rationalized, he could do with the man as he pleased. Force him into assuming the permanent form of his Animagus, that huge black dog.

That brought the beginnings of a sarcastic smile to his thin, pink lips. The rude, sarcastic man who made a better dog than a human with how he tended to ogle every witch on the street.

His mouth went dry and he licked his lips to moisten them, but no moisture came. Just further dryness. His boots thudded as he strode towards the door, but the sound was drowned out by the even louder sound of the pounding of his heart against its cage of bone and cartilage.

A small, muffled noise that sounded like a scraping sound reached his eardrums, causing his ears to perk up at the unusual noise. Everett whirled around on the heel of his black boot, pointedly feeling his face freeze and anger swell.

Barreau was gone. He stomped into the center of the bedroom in the cellar to see just how the hell that was even bloody possible. The enchanted handcuffs he knew she couldn't escape from, and in fact, he did not find the strange device littered anywhere about on the floor, so he knew for a fact she was still bound.

He gnashed his teeth, cursing himself for not being more careful in subduing the girl.

Somehow, she'd managed to slip out the side door when he'd been not looking. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily and deep, taking a much-needed moment to compose himself before he began his search for his precious prize through the rest of his fun haunted little house.

Renee Elizabeth Barreau would not escape this house alive.

Everett only hoped he found his prize before the girl stumbled onto one of his traps…


	30. Chapter 30

Sirius had thought losing control of his magic the way that he had should have been much less painful.

Then again, he seemed to be caught in a horrible churning tide. He was barely aware of the searing pain that tormented his broken body from allowing his magic to course through his veins, no longer in control.

He couldn't even remember if Moony and Tonks had escorted him back to his parents' house or not, but before he could ponder it further, he was brutally aware of the searing, white-hot flares of pain that tormented his body, which was drained and exhausted from his little display towards Everett.

Merlin knew how the hell bloody long ago it had been now. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months?

It was almost more than Black could bear. Sirius's muscles attempted to writhe in agony where he lay, but his aching bones and muscles kept him pinned in place.

Then, just as quickly, he felt himself succumbing to the nothingness that threatened to engulf him entirely. A black void in which he ceased to exist.

And then a horrible pain searing his body, rendering him unable to move at all. Perhaps this was the seven layers of Hell itself. No more and no less than he deserved, considering he had failed to protect Renee.

He deserved an eternity of torture for what he had done.

Sirius could handle this much better than he could the remorse he'd felt when he had kissed her and so coldly left the room, leaving Renee on her own, and now, bloody hell, she had been kidnapped by Everett.

All Sirius could manage to focus on was Barreau's pleading blue eyes, brimming with glistening, salty tears as she had silently pleaded with Sirius to help her.

Even now, Sirius could see Renee clearly before him, despite the fact that his eyes remained closed. His mind, his heart, for that matter, what little was left of it, could think of nothing but saving Barreau.

The one who he had horribly failed, the young Muggle who had gotten under his skin, permeating his thoughts, the one who made Sirius feel loved, honorable, and perhaps whole for the first time in his life.

He had left her. He'd told himself there was no other way. Sirius had thought he'd been keeping Renee safe by pushing her away, keeping her at arm's length.

Although his reasons had been pure, Black told himself, Sirius had more or less thrown everything away for a life: that he did not love Renee.

But Merlin, never had a woman, much less a Muggle, affected him the way Barreau had done, from the moment she had fallen through his bloody kitchen ceiling on accident.

Renee had affected him in ways the young woman wasn't even aware of, trying to make him believe he was better than the womanizing monster he knew himself to be, his past self-flitting through witches like they were no more than used parchment paper, fun in the moment, but never in it for a long-term future.

She made him want that, for the first time in his life, and now, it was too late. Too Merlin-damned late.

Sirius wallowed in his misery, alone in his eternal darkness, longing for the young Muggle that ran the Broken Spoon Café, that made the best chocolate muffin he'd ever had the pleasure to taste, though her muffins couldn't hold a candle to the sweetness of her kiss.

It was the memory of Barreau that would be Black's comfort and still, Sirius felt rather fortunate. He would not give up on Barreau again.

Sirius kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, forcing himself to focus on the remembrance of her lips pressed against his, her skin pressed against his, that his mind almost conjured a phantasm of her, as if she were here, not quite a ghost, but not alive, either.

For the few precious moments, his tormented mind would grant him, Sirius could enjoy Renee and imagine he'd not failed Renee. Sirius's eyes flung wide open as his body felt like it was on fire.

Even suffering under the Dementors' during his twelve-year stint in Azkaban, the pain had not been so fierce or brutal as what he felt right now. He wanted to scream, from pain, from anger, betrayal, hurt, and heartache, and from fear as the phantasm of Renee slowly faded from the confines of his mind.

What did he have left if not the memories?

Suddenly, as if appearing out of nowhere, a horrible blinding white light burned itself into his vision. It was dim like the faint ember of a candle, and yet, to Sirius's blackened vison, agonizing, nonetheless.

The source of the unknown, foreign light very nearly blinded poor Sirius. Everything weighed down on him.

The burning air shocked his lungs as he gasped. The darkness was gone as Sirius found himself surfacing from the horrible darkness, staring up at a dark stone of a horrible ceiling or was this…rubble?

 _What the bloody hell_?

His chest heaved as his heart, now little more than a throbbing mass of corded muscle in his chest, struggled to find his rhythm.

Sirius tried to flex his fingers and toes, but his limbs bloody refused to budge. Every time he tried merely sent an explosion of pain, white-hot flaring agony spiraling through him.

Sirius didn't want to even think of what torment waited him as the darkness continued to flee from him, lying motionless in dread for more suffering to start.

He swore he heard Renee's voice, speaking to him, though she sounded faint, muffled, and coming from somewhere above his head.

" _No_ …" Sirius whispered in a hoarse grumble, amazed he could even find his voice.

Had Renee somehow died too? Had Everett killed her? Was that why he could hear her voice nearby? He could barely breathe, though his lungs gasped for air.

Sirius struggled to force his eyes open. The effort nearly sapped him of all his strength, what little was left.

It felt to Black as if something of equal will was raging war within him, trying to keep his body broken, battered, and completely engulfed in the darkness. He tried again. If Renee was alive, then he had to try. He had to see her, to know what it all meant.

Almost grunting with the effort, Sirius forced his eyes open, though it came at a great cost. His eyes' effort to open was met by the burning pain of that stupid white light once more. If this was Heaven, he didn't want it.

His body still remained broken and motionless despite his best efforts to move his fingers.

Nothing. Sirius cursed himself thinking how he could have been so careless. But then he heard Renee's voice speaking.

"That's it," came her soft, quiet voice through the haze of his tormented mind. "Fight it. Come back to us," she cried from somewhere beyond his line of sight.

He heard Renee's voice speaking again. That meant Barreau wasn't dead, and he wasn't dead, either. He was…bloody hell, he was _alive_.

The memories flooded back into his stream of consciousness, fleeting images as though he were viewing what happened in a Pensieve. Everett sneaking up behind him and Moony. Everett kidnapping Renee.

How he'd lost control, and he swore the sound of an explosion rang in his still throbbing and pounding eardrums, which were now filled with a fatigued ringing, almost deafening, it was.

How one moment, Renee had been within his grasp, and then the next, that bastard had kidnapped her, and Disapparated before Sirius could even think.

He could see her face, plain as day, her eyebrows creased together with worry, tears dripping from her lids in an uncontrollable way as she silently begged him to help her. She had pleaded with him to help her.

 _Merlin's Beard! Oh, God_! His mind practically screamed at him.

He had…he had failed her, as good as _killed_ her, even if it wasn't by his hands. What in the seven bloody hells had he done to Renee?!

His heart sank to the pit of his churning stomach, even lower than the depths from which he'd emerged. Sirius felt like he lacked the strength to go on.

He knew he had to be alive, but Renee was as good as dead, and if she was dead, then he had no wish to be alive. Moony had Dora and Teddy now. He'd be fine. Harry had Ginny and the entire Weasley family looking after him. His two godsons would be just fine.

He had essentially given up the one person in his otherwise desolate, miserable life who had taught him what it truly meant to love, killed her. Sirius closed his eyes and let himself go. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into the darkness to let it consume him wholly.

Sirius allowed himself to relax into the void, praying to Merlin and His Light, that it would end his sorrow. He wanted no more part of this.

"Renee," he sighed, his name on her lips, the only word he uttered before slipping into sleep.

* * *

Sirius stared absently into the fire in the living room parlor of a place he was unfamiliar with, wishing that for the second time in his life, that he would have just been _killed_.

He could not remember even moving from the chair, much less how he'd gotten back to Headquarters in his current deteriorated physical state. His body was horribly slow at returning to normal.

His curiosity got the better of him as slowly, his eyes remained open and he looked around for any sign of who had brought him back, hoping it had been Moony or Tonks that had taken him back.

Directly to his right, curled up in a spare black leather armchair, almost as still and lifeless as a statute, a girl, one he did not recognize, was curled up in the chair.

At this, he gave a sudden start as Sirius's hardened pale grey orbs drifted upwards to her white-blonde hair, cropped short, just like Renee's, hoping she'd been found and that Everett hadn't harmed her.

His heart sank to the pit of his churning stomach when he realized as she shifted slightly, her mouth slightly open, that it wasn't Renee.

Though this new woman looked a _hell_ of a lot like her, and Sirius's inner paranoia wondered if perhaps Everett had enticed a witch off the streets to drink Polyjuice Potion to assume Barreau's likeness, just to mess with him.

She was just as petite and tiny, her hair cut in a similar style, but it was bone-white in color, slightly shaggier and a little bit longer, her cheekbones more emaciated, and dark purple bags clung underneath her lids.

She looked quite ill and utterly exhausted. Briefly, she looked kind of like Moony did whenever he suffered from his 'furry little problem' once a month, and he wondered if this woman was a werewolf, too.

Her hands, delicate and small, lay limply in her lap, though it looked as though she had previously been reading a leatherbound copy of an old book of some sorts while seemingly lying in wait for Black to rouse from his deep sleep.

Her head slumped forward, her long white bangs covering her eyes, shielding him from view. Sirius swallowed as he struggled to lift his head.

Now would _definitely_ be a good time to go. Sirius gritted his teeth with the effort to lift himself from the armchair, discovering to his dismay that he was entirely too weak to move.

Just the effort of lifting his head off the headrest of the peeling black leather armchair caused Black to let out an involuntary groan.

Unfortunately, his movement did not go unnoticed.

His stomach churned in painful apprehension the moment the young blonde witch stirred in her chair during her deep sleep, then slowly raised her head and pushed the bangs of her white-blonde pixie cut off her face.

 _Seven hells_ , he thought miserably to himself. _Damnation_. _She's pretty. Almost looks like Barreau_.

Her pale blue orbs blinked once, twice, three times to rid the crust from her lids during sleep for a moment before her gaze landed on Sirius, who inwardly flinched but didn't look away from her now that this witch discovered him.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake!" she exclaimed in surprise, bolting to her feet, and causing the book that had been resting on her lap to fall to the hardwood floor at her feet with a loud, resounding crash that made Sirius jump, causing him to let out a low moan of pain at the movement.

If the new witch took notice of this, she either ignored it or hadn't paid attention.

"Thank Merlin. I was starting to get worried you might not wake up at all. You scared the hell out of us, Black."

 _How the bloody hell does she know my name_? Sirius thought, furrowing his brows in a light frown of annoyance as he gave her European features a once-over.

The young witch, who was close to Barreau's age, she could not have been older than thirty, a few years younger than Sirius himself, knelt to pick up the book she'd accidentally dropped before setting it down on the side table next to the chair she had been occupying.

Sirius attempted to turn his head to escape the pretty blonde witch's piercing blue gaze, but even that proved to be too tremendous an undertaking for his body to suffer through at this point in time.

Repressing a sigh, he settled to sit back against the armchair, helpless, as she walked cautiously towards him, carrying what looked to be a heavily laden wooden basin of medical supplies, her wand made of unicorn hair and dragon heartstring perched precariously on top.

Sirius let out a barely audible groan as she paused a few feet in front of him, blocking his view of the lit fire in the fireplace, waving her wand, and pulling the chair opposite him closer.

"How are you feeling?" the new witch asked softly, looking at Sirius with raised thin eyebrows.

Now, it was Sirius's turn to raise his brows the young blonde witch's way. No one, save for maybe Moony and Barreau, had ever asked after his health before.

On the contrary, even now that his name was cleared of all charges following his release from Azkaban Prison, there were still some in the streets of downtown London and Diagon Alley that wished to express the desire that Black go drown himself in the Thames river.

There were those who still thought him guilty, no matter that the Ministry had pardoned him.

He parted his cracked, bleeding lips to speak, but his throat was parched, and only a dry, hoarse cough escaped his lips.

Noticing his struggle, the young thirty-year-old blonde quickly waved her wand, conjuring a tin flagon of ice water, he could hear the cubes clinking inside the container, she'd probably conjured it from the kitchens and poured Sirius a glass.

Sirius felt a stab of a fear prick at his heart, considering he lacked the strength to raise his wand against this witch if it turned, she meant him harm, or where his wand was.

However, the young blonde witch merely passed one of her arms behind his bruised and bleeding shoulders and tried to raise him upright to a sitting position.

Without any kind of success on her part.

Compelled to act and help the witch, who was practically grunting with the effort to get him to sit upright, Sirius forced himself to summon what meager strength left he possessed and assisted the thirty-year-old beautiful blonde witch in elevating him enough to allow her to hold the goblet of ice water to his lips.

"Slow down, you'll get sick to your stomach if you drink it too fast. Nice and easy, Black, that's it," she cautioned as he heavily drank until she tore the cup away from his lips and set it on the small wooden night table next to Sirius's armchair.

As she eased him back in his chair, Sirius remembered something: her sweet, soft voice. Low and husky.

He'd heard it before, calling out to him to stay. On the brink of death, he'd heard a low, feminine voice. It had told him to come back, to fight it, that he would be all right if he just stayed awake for her, then.

Strangely moved with emotion, he managed to speak in a hoarse whisper now that he'd had water, "Who the hell _are_ you?" he barked in a raspy whisper.

Sleep threatened to take hold of him again, but he fought against the urge to let it claim him, willing himself to speak again, this time, in a more polite tone, sensing how the young woman flinched away in shock.

"What is your name?" he asked, kindlier. "And where the bloody hell _am_ I?" Sirius growled, flinging his eyes open and forcing himself to look around the room at what he now knew to be unfamiliar surroundings.

He definitely wasn't back at Headquarters. There was no sign of Moony or Dora. He flinched the moment the words were out of his mouth, thinking this woman, whoever she was, did not deserve the venom he'd flung her way in a moment of self-pity and despair, but it was too late to take it back. When she spoke, her quiet, shy voice was faint.

"Norah, Sirius. Norah Brennan. My husband, Ollie, is a close friend of your cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, we all work alongside each other at the Ministry, but in different departments, and right now, he might be your _only_ shot at finding _her_."

The young blonde witch's tone was clipped and hardened in response to Sirius's aggression, and she pursed her lips into a thin line as his eyes widened.

 _Merlin's left...Ollie_?! He was…he was in _Brennan's_ house? But when the bloody hell had that stupid _pisscloak_ gotten married?

More important, what witch would be dumb enough to fall for such a temperamental bastard? This one, apparently.

The last he had seen of his cousin's best friend had been years ago at The Three Broomsticks and Sirius had been too drunk at the time to remember _what_ the bloody hell had happened, just that the two men had argued over something trivial, and Ollie had won that fight, though both men had received a lifelong ban from the tavern by Madame Rosmerta, never to enter the bar again.

Though, by the time Brennan was done with it and him, there wasn't much of a tavern left still standing…

Norah Brennan, that pretty blonde witch with the brilliant blue eyes currently regarding him with a wave of smoldering, fathomless anger at the hostile way Sirius had reacted to her just now, spoke to him again.

"You are in our home. Mr. and Mrs. Lupin thought to bring you here after you passed out, Mrs. Lupin in particular wants to speak to Ollie about something. Says you have a problem with a _girl_ she's hoping he can solve. He'll find her for you, Black, but there's something else. You, ah…" Her voice cracked and warbled as it trailed off. "You…blew up a _street_ , Mr. Black. You were angry. You lost control. It wasn't your _fault_ ," she emphasized, giving her head a curt shake. "Nobody was _hurt_ ," she added quickly, sensing the dawning look of horror on Sirius's face as his face paled and turned an interesting shade of green. "The few Muggles that were in the vicinity were able to have their minds wiped and their memories modified. The building was mostly repaired, but for the street that needs a bit more work, the Muggles believe a gas pipe exploded and it's sealed off for the time being until the rest of the repairs can be made, but it's meant overtime for my husband at the Ministry, but Ollie should be home soon, I hope."

Sirius's eyes widened in shock as his mind fought to process Norah Brennan's words. Oh, _Merlin_! He'd…blown up a _street_? Had he really lost that much control?!

"You are _not_ a prisoner here, Mr. Black," Norah spoke up, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she noticed Sirius's narrowed gaze flitting towards the locked door.

"You call this _freedom_ , Mrs. Brennan?" Sirius asked in disgust, noticing how the young blonde witch nervously began twisting the plain gold wedding band she wore proudly on her left ring finger, biting her lip.

"I call this _protection_ , Black," Norah snapped back.

"Oh yes, locked doors as protection?" Sirius mocked in disbelief, snorting, and rolling his eyes in disgust.

"Yes." Norah held firm and steadfast in her resolve, brushing her hands on the skirts on the skirts of her black lace dress. "It is the best we could do. It was Lupin and Tonks's idea, Black. Until you…got yourself under control again. It is the best place for you right now. You are _not_ a prisoner," Norah repeated patiently.

Sirius swore he saw a shadow of shame cross before Norah Brennan's piercing pale blue eyes that reminded him almost painfully of Renee and his heart gave a painful lurch as worry wormed its way to his stomach.

"You will be _safe_ here, Mr. Black, I can assure you of that," Norah promised quietly. "For now. As long as you stay in this room and let us _help_ you, Mr. Black."

"Help me by having _him_ find her," Sirius growled, no traces of warmth throughout his voice as Norah stared.

He leaned forward enough in his armchair, summoning what meager strength he possessed left to look Tonks's friend in her crystalline blue eyes that painfully reminded him of Barreau's eyes, and he prayed to Merlin Above that Renee was still alive.

Silence brooded before Norah exhaled a relieved sigh.

"I want nothing more than to see the Morning Killer's head on a spike," Sirius growled through gritted teeth, almost able to feel Norah Brennan give a start at his hardened face which matched the ice in his voice.

A muscle in Norah's jaw twitched and she swallowed down thickly past a growing lump in her throat.

When she spoke, her voice trembled and became softer, more subdued than before, losing its hardened edges in response to Sirius's initial aggression towards her, then.

"I want that too," she whispered in a hoarse whisper that was more of a half-choked sob, and when she lifted her gaze to look Sirius in the eyes, her bright blue eyes the color of a robin's egg or the sky after a fresh rainfall were brimming with tears, which he thought odd. "More than you know," she managed to gasp out.

Sirius quirked a brow at his cousin's friend, wondering what the reason was for her shift in mood.

" _Why_?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him, as the young blonde witch turned on the heels of her boots to leave him in peace as sleep threatened to consume him. "You look as though you _know_ him."

His heart gave a painful lurch at that very concept. " _Do_ you?" he pressed, his voice escaping him in what Sirius could only be described as a low, menacing growl.

He saw the blonde witch give a start at his words, her hand hovering over the brass doorknob of the door.

Norah Brennan's posture stiffened upon hearing Sirius Black's words, and when the witch slowly pivoted at the waist and exhaled a deep, shaking breath through her nostrils, slowly lifting her head, Sirius was surprised to see tears falling from her lids.

When Norah spoke, her voice was so faint that Sirius had to lean forward to hear her better, thinking that at first, she hadn't spoken at all, that Dora's best friend had perhaps momentarily lost the power of speech.

When she did regain control of her voice as she struggled to find the right words, what she said next sent a chill through Sirius's veins, turning his blood to ice and utterly freezing over his insides.

"I do," she confessed in a small and meek sounding voice that was so soft and so faint, it was barely a whisper, lifting her chin and jutting it out slightly defiantly to better meet Sirius's piercing gaze that felt to Norah like he threatened to burn a hole in the back of her skull hotter than any dragon could flame if she didn't start talking to him and telling him the bloody whole truth.

" _How_?" he growled, not sure he wanted to know the answer, but knowing he needed it, one way or another.

Her next words sent a chill down his spine. Norah hesitated, biting down on her bottom lip and twisting her hands painfully together.

"He's…he's my _brother_."


	31. Chapter 31

Remus and Tonks watched from their respective places on Mr. and Mrs. Brennan's sofa in the living room of one of Dora's best friends from her Hogwarts days alongside Charlie Weasley, as Norah, Ollie Brennan's wife, a petite little slip of a blonde thing, led Sirius across the living room, her wand raised, pointed at his chest, though she held an expression on her face that suggested she sincerely hoped she'd not have to raise her wand against a family member of Tonks.

Norah, Remus leaned over the last hour while they had been waiting for Sirius to regain consciousness, worked alongside Tonks at the Ministry of Magic, as did Norah's husband, albeit in different departments to avoid conflict of interest.

Norah was an employee in the Wand Permit Office, whereas Ollie was a highly-skilled, highly respected Auror, according to Moody, who had also joined Remus and Tonks in this impromptu house visit of theirs, ready to assist in case Sirius's temper got out of hand a second time but hoped it didn't.

She had always dreamed of opening up her own magical menagerie in Diagon Alley one day, but her life hadn't panned out that way, but Ollie resolved to do what he could for his wife to ensure her dream reached a reality, one day, but he knew that when it came to light that Norah was Everett's last familial relation, her life would only be made that much more difficult here in London.

There was every strong possibility she would be hounded, shamed, shunned from polite society, pushed to the brink where they might have to leave and move to another location entirely, but they would deal with that when they crossed that bridge, Ollie silently resolved.

Lupin sat upright in his chair as Sirius hobbled and limped his way towards the waiting armchair that Remus pushed closer to the fire so that his best friend would be warm upon sitting.

The young blonde witch followed behind Sirius almost every step of the way, before moving to stand beside her husband, Ollie, allowing Lupin to get a good look at Dora's best friend.

Ollie Brennan, a former student of Slytherin House, and a natural-born Legilimens, was a tall, towering man close to Remus's height, easily a good head or two taller than Sirius himself, with pale, strong, chiseled features, a thick head of short black hair and a rough, closely-cropped beard, and a pair of glacier-blue eyes those at the Ministry who worked alongside the Legilimens said they were devoid of warmth for most, except for two people, and any hint of emotion was reserved for that of his wife, Norah, and his best friend at the Ministry of Magic, Dora Tonks-Lupin, who nervously took the seat next to Remus after waving a shy hello to Norah.

Norah, Remus noticed, had pursed her lips into a thin line as Ollie Brennan gingerly shrugged out of his wife's grasp and strode towards the armchair that Sirius now rested in.

Lupin stiffened, biting down on his lip at the look of dawning anger and recognition in Sirius's eyes the moment Ollie leaned down, placing both of his hands on either side of the chair's armrests so that the tip of his slender nose was practically touching Black's.

His thin lips curled upwards into a truly twisted smirk, the dancing light from the fire seemed to cast a horrible black shadow to flit across the handsome Auror's face, though at the moment, it gave Brennan a truly frightening appearance.

Remus flinched, and he felt Tonks stiffen beside him at the smoldering, burning rage in the man's crystalline, bewitching blue eyes. This was again a situation Remus was not privy to, all he knew for certain from Mrs. Brennan earlier was that once, Ollie and Sirius had argued over something in the Three Broomsticks, and it had resulted in a duel where Ollie had emerged the victor, but it had come at a cost of being banished from the pub for life.

"Look at _that_ , Norah," Ollie announced in a pleasant enough voice, as though it wasn't every day he and his wife received unexpected visitors from old enemies. "You outdid yourself this time, sweetheart. You brought me home a _bastard_."

Tonks silently seethed, grinding her molars together at the clipped curtness of her best mate's voice, not giving a damn what grudge Ollie harbored against Sirius, or what they had argued about back in the day, not that it mattered anymore. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Ollie's help in finding Renee.

Sirius flinched at the use of the term, though his muscles hardened, and he remained silent.

At least, at first. Sirius's gaze flitted towards Norah Brennan, at the young blonde witch who reminded him so much of Renee, that it was almost painful for him to look upon her, and it was even worse that she was by relations, the blood sister to that vicious, sadistic _monster_.

Ollie waved his hand dismissively when Norah furrowed her delicately shape brows into a light little frown and made to set a gentle hand on his shoulder, meant to coax him, to entice him to take the seat just across from Sirius in front of the fireplace, to hear Black's plea now.

Sirius swallowed down thickly, squelching his involuntarily dismay at the unfortunate likeness Brennan's wife bore to Renee Barreau and mustered the strength enough to curve his lips into a sneer.

"You should have left me to _die_ , witch, and why would I take anything from the likes of you, you're that bastard's _sister_ , you _witch_! For all I know, you're just as _crazy_ as _him_!" he rasped in a hoarse voice, noticing out of the corner of his eyes Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of tea, promptly lowered his teacup, looking suddenly drained and exhausted.

Tonks's eyes were squeezed shut, as though she were sending up a silent prayer to the heavens for Merlin, that bastard of a warlock, to hear her plea, that Sirius would mind his tongue. If her cousin ticked off Ollie with his harebrained temper by making an insult against the man's wife, her dear friend more to the point, besides, then they could essentially kiss any possibility of Ollie helping them locate Renee goodbye, and then Barreau was as good as dead.

" _Sirius_ ," Tonks snapped sharply, halfway rising from her spot on the sofa, though she stopped when Lupin's hand came to rest on top of her thigh, squeezing it.

"That's a _shame_ , Black," Ollie snarled through gritted teeth, his bright blue eyes darkening, turning almost cerulean in color, and his fingernails began to rake down the fabric of either side of Sirius's armchair. "You just stepped on a nonnegotiable big landmine, Sirius. No one insults my wife to my face. _No_. _One_."

"Oh, _Merlin_ ," moaned Tonks, and this time, she did rise from her spot on the sofa, despite Lupin's quiet protests that she remained silent. Desperate to make amends before her cousin made his situation worse for himself, she turned towards Norah Brennan, a woman a few years older than her, but still a wonderful friend, nonetheless, having gotten acquainted with her when she'd started at the Ministry a while ago.

Tonks swallowed nervously down past the lump in her throat as it constricted as her gaze flitted from Ollie, whose face was rapidly paling in his waves of anger, his aura almost exuding black fumes that seemed to emanate from his shoulders as the man fought to control his own magic that threatened to implode if Ollie couldn't manage to rein in the worst of his temper.

"Ollie, that's _enough_!" Tonks snapped, though her voice, she knew, lacked the conviction to sell the argument she really wanted to make. She turned her head sharply toward Sirius before looking towards Norah again. "My cousin spoke out of anger and didn't _mean_ the things he said to you, Norah, or to you, Ollie," she sighed, turning her gaze to regard the blonde.

"Tonks is right, boy, for God's sake," barked Moody in a rough, grating voice, who was resting on top of a stool in the furthermost corner of the Brennan's living room. "Control yourself or you'll find yourself _removed_ , Black."

Sirius swallowed thickly, opening his mouth as his narrowed gaze flitted from Ollie Brennan and then back to Everett's one and only sibling, looking very much like he'd like to protest as his face rapidly drained of colors, but upon being on the receiving end of a particularly stony glower from both Remus and Alastor, decided against it, and clamped his mouth shut, though he looked, in Tonks' mind, thoroughly upset.

"Sirius, please be _quiet_ ," Remus snapped, the edges of his voice hardened in response to Sirius's aggression towards their unexpected but still willing hosts. He exchanged a quick glance with Tonks, who shot him a grateful look with her pale grey orbs, silently trying to thank Lupin for his intervention with her eyes.

He returned the gesture that told his wife she didn't need to. Lupin closed his eyes for a moment before continuing, fighting to rein in control of his own temper, inherited from his father, Lyall, throughout the years. He let out a haggard sigh. When he opened his eyes, Remus hardened his expression in response to his friend's anger.

"You aren't the only one in this room, Sirius, who cares for Renee. Now do as Alastor advised and be _quiet_. Please allow Mr. and Mrs. Brennan to help us, and if you value Renee's life like I suspect you to, then you'll kindly calm down and let Ollie and his wife help us and tell us what they know. The longer we fight amongst ourselves like this, the _less_ time Miss Barreau has, if she's even still _alive_ , though considering how badly Everett seemed to want her alive, I'd say she still is, did that thought ever _once_ cross your mind, Sirius?"

Here, his gaze flitted somewhat apprehensively towards Norah, where the young blonde witch was regarding Sirius rather timidly. Though considering the hostile nature in which his best friend had treated the young woman just now, he could not blame Tonks's friend for the current way she was reacting.

Lupin looked back towards Sirius and was moderately pleased to see, at a minimum, that his words had hit their mark and had the desired effect, for Sirius shot Norah a furtive, guilty look, and seemed to be trying to apologize.

Norah Brennan slowly nodded her head as her mind fought to process everyone's claims, though she found her gaze fixated on Black. Sirius quickly looked away from her, and Norah felt a pang of remorse well in her chest.

She heaved a heavy sigh and strode back over to the small night table.

"I'll bet you're starved, Black," she murmured, her quiet, shy voice almost so faint, that even Remus's wolfish hearing almost missed it, though there was no mistaking the warbling crack in her kind voice.

Norah waved her wand and conjured a spoon from midair and set it down in what looked to be a steaming bowl of a soup or porridge she'd made.

"I didn't know what your condition would be like when you woke up, what your stomach could tolerate, so I made some porridge," Norah muttered, carrying the tray with both hands as she approached Sirius cautiously. "It's pretty bland, but it'll go down easier this way, trust me," she muttered, ignoring her husband's flustered look at her act of kindness.

Norah thought she saw Sirius Black cringe slightly at her approach, but she couldn't be sure. She paused.

"Ollie, I need you to move for me, sweetheart, you're kind of standing in my way, love," she murmured darkly under her breath, before shifting her tone to something more polite as she addressed Sirius. "Can you sit forward?" she asked mildly, hoping she wasn't asking too much in the man's drastically drained, weakened state.

After a moment of a thick, uncomfortable silence that only intensified as Ollie stepped back, albeit reluctantly, away from Sirius's armchair, making an odd sniffing noise of disapproval through his nose as he perched himself on the spare armchair's armrest, keeping his broad arms folded across his chest, Sirius offered a silent, angered nod, and reluctantly heaved himself forward, unable to stifle the pained groan that escaped his lips.

It took him some effort, and Norah did not speak to Sirius or the others again until the man had finished eating what very little he could, sliding off the chair her husband was sitting on the armrest of only to take the tray away from him, waving her wand so that it vanished from his hands, before settling back into her chair, letting her head collapse wearily against the headrest, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.

"I did not mean my words," came Sirius's soft voice, causing the young blonde woman's blue eyes to fling wide open in shock and surprise. "Mrs. Brennan, if I have offended you in any way regarding your ties to your brother, I _apologize_ ," he managed to croak out hoarsely.

Norah let out a sigh as she nodded numbly, pausing only once to look up as Ollie stroked the back of his finger over her cheekbone in a tender manner, his hardened look of anger softening, the worst of his annoyance towards Sirius Black's presence in his home dissipating the moment his blue eyes met that of his wife.

"It's all right," Norah responded softly, though her gaze never left her husband's eyes, and Tonks wondered whether she was speaking to Sirius or her husband in this tense moment.

Probably the latter if Tonks had to hazard a guess. Though it did not escape her attention how Norah Brennan's lower lip quivered, her blue eyes glistening brightly with un-shed tears.

It did not take long for the familiar pang of worry and unease to worm its way into the pit of Tonks's churning, swooping stomach as she looked upon her dear friend, thinking she had made a grave mistake by bringing Sirius here.

That neither of them should have come and dredge up whatever painful memories that Norah had seemingly worked so hard throughout her life to repress up to this point.

But she knew as she met the young blonde's gaze that was entirely too late to take it all back.

"He's…your older brother?" Tonks asked in a soft voice, hating that she had to dredge up these memories for her friend, but at the same time, desperately needing the truth, instinctively feeling her hand to reach and settle over top of Remus's, giving her husband's hand a light, reassuring squeeze, needing to take the subtle comfort from him as much to give it.

Norah, throughout her time as Tonks's friend in the Ministry, had never once mentioned anything to Tonks or Kingsley or Moody about having any other family aside from Ollie once the two of them married in a private ceremony, with only witnesses taken from the local wizarding tavern, but now, she could see why.

Norah colored slightly upon hearing her friend's harsh words of the plain truth, that not even the gentle touch of her husband's hand that came to rest on her shoulder could comfort her as she swallowed down past a growing lump.

"I…" she stammered, her voice trailing off as she nervously glanced down at her shaking hands, which she'd begun to painfully twist together. She felt her chest constrict and tighten as the vision of her brother's face flitted through the front of her mind, as if she were looking at a series of memoirs through a Pensieve in her mind.

Norah was quick to decide she hated it. Norah squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her face grimaced, tearing her eyes away from the haunting image. Ollie's grip on her shoulder tightened, and she felt his hand move to rest over top of her thigh, his fingernails almost raking down the material of her simple dress.

Tonks blinked back tears of her own as she watched Norah Brennan silently wage war with herself as the young blonde witch struggled to reign in the worst of her grief upon knowing what Everett had become over the years past.

"The reason I never told you, Dora," Norah began in a cracked and warbling voice that was so hushed, so faint, that Tonks and Lupin both had to lean forward in her chair in order to hear her words better, "was…I…I wanted to…to spare you all…this, that my…my brother is a _monster_. I _know_ what he is, all right?" she whispered, no longer able to keep the tears at bay, and just like that, the dam burst, and Norah lost control, bursting into tears as she wept wholeheartedly, burying her face in her hands.

She tried to choke back the memory of her brother, bidding herself not to think of the man who was hurting her so badly, killing those people, even going as far as to murder children.

Norah let out a deep, shuddering sob that wracked her petite frame, no longer caring if Black, Lupin, and Tonks, or Ollie saw, and she felt herself sniffle once or twice as she felt her husband's strong arms wrap around her middle as he gently nudged her to the side so he could slide off the armrest and join her in the chair, tucking her hair underneath his chin, not willing to relinquish his grip on his wife's sobbing form.

"Shh, Nor, it's…it's all right, I'm here, I got you," he soothed, squeezing his eyes shut, fighting back his own tears, loathe to see the love of his life shed wretched, horrible tears, whispering it tenderly into the shell of her delicate ear, before his head whiplashed sharply up to regard Lupin and Tonks, but more specifically, his best friend.

Ollie felt his jaw harden as his face paled in anger.

"What were you _thinking_?" he growled, unable to keep the note of bitterness from seeping its way unbidden to the surface of his voice. "Tonks, you know you're my best mate, and I love you, I do, and I always will, no matter what, but this is unacceptable. Can't you see what this is _doing_ to my _wife_ , Dora? All of you, are you really _that_ insensitive?" he snarled. " _Get out_ , and don't bother to come back if you're going to bring up this topic…" Ollie snapped, hardening his voice.

" _No_." Norah's voice sounded faint, muffled, having buried her face in the thick material of her husband's black woolen sweater, but when she lifted her chin and raised her tear-filled eyes to sweep across their living room, her gaze settled and lingered upon Sirius Black, whose face remained impassive, though Tonks and Lupin collectively swore to themselves that they thought they saw a flicker of sympathy dart through Tonks's cousin's pale grey orbs then.

Norah choked out a weak laugh that in actuality sounded more like a watered-down sob, sounding like she was choking to death. Ollie tenderly carded his fingers through his wife's hair, shooting her a concerned look with furrowed, raised brows.

"Norah," he started to say hesitantly, but Norah shot him a pointed look and he fell silent.

Lupin and Tonks helping Norah escort Sirius Black while the man was unconscious back to their home left Norah with a feeling of amazing conflict.

A brand new injury, so to speak of, yes. A brand new humiliation, other than being the sister to a mass murderer, though thank Merlin the Ministry had not yet learned the truth.

By some miracle of the old warlock, Merlin himself, Norah had managed to conceal the truth when the Ministry of Magic had hired her on in the Wand Permit Office, effectively not disclosing it on her application and performing a temporary Memory Charm on herself when they had done a background check on her prior to hiring her that Ollie had reversed the effects of the moment she had gotten hired.

There was no doubt in her mind, that Norah would be brought in for questioning once the Minister of Magic learned the truth.

A part of her had shattered the day she had discovered Everett's secret. Her sense of safety. The security their parents had always provided the two of them with, growing up in the countryside of Wales.

But at the same time, at having Black in her home, knowing the man now held a personal vendetta against her brother for kidnapping the woman he loved, there was a horrible feeling of satisfaction welling within the pit of Norah Brennan's heart.

It was not something the young blonde witch could easily articulate to anyone in this room, though Norah knew she had to at least try, she recognized, as she let out a deep, shaking breath.

"It's okay, Ollie, really it is," she whispered tenderly, reaching for his hand, and intertwining her fingers with his.

She raised her chin out and jutted it out slightly defiantly, though she could not stop her bottom lip from quivering at all.

"I _know_ you've come here to kill my brother. It's…it's the only way this whole thing can end."

Ollie shot his wife a pained look of such heartbreak and anguish that Tonks sincerely hoped it never appeared on her best mate's face again, and Tonks could tell as she glanced sideways at Remus out of the corner of her eye, that she knew he hoped for that for him as well.

"Norah…" he started to say, wanting to offer his wife some words of comfort, but for perhaps the first time in his life since meeting the young witch who'd stolen his heart that night in Hogsmeade at Honeydukes, he was at a loss.

Ollie felt his hands trembling with rage. He himself wanted to kill Norah's brother for inflicting so much pain on the woman he loved, though he could tell by the dawning look of anger on Black's face, he'd have to get in line.

But Merlin, he wanted to kill Everett. Again, and again. He wanted to bash his skull to the floor, to hear the man's bones of his head crack. To watch the clean hardwood floor turn crimson with that of Everett's own life force. He wanted him dead, so Norah could be _free_.

"I…we…we heard the killing sprees had started to reach London," Norah explained, sniffing a couple times to fight back a stray sob or two, flicking away the last of her tears, now spent, with a well-practiced flick of her finger. "And I knew I had to come back, to find him."

She turned towards Sirius and fixed the former prisoner of Azkaban with a pointed stare before turning her attention back to her husband.

"I don't want my brother to hurt anyone else," she whispered in a faint voice that sounded incredibly small. "I want to come with you. I'd like to…to see him one last time, before…before it's too late and I don't get that chance again. _Please_ ," she begged, sensing Ollie open his mouth to violently protest this idea of his wife's. Her hands gripped onto fistfuls of Ollie's black sweater as she shook her husband slightly. " _Please_ , Ollie," she begged in a broken voice.

Even as Norah spoke the words, she shuddered slightly as she dared to meet Ollie's piercing eyes of blue, at the rage within them as he no doubt thought of her putting herself in harm's way, just to see her brother one last time.

With deep, slow breaths, Norah attempted to slow her pounding heart and tried again, desperate to make him see. "I…I wouldn't ask if this wasn't important. _Please_. I beg of you. He's my _brother_." Here, she looked towards Lupin and Tonks.

Remus felt his heartstrings give a painful lurch. The words were out of Lupin's mouth before he could even think about stopping himself from saying it. "Yes," he answered, speaking before Norah Brennan's husband had a chance to interject.

Sensing Ollie open his mouth to interject, alongside Sirius and Tonks, he pressed onward, continuing speaking, not giving either of them a chance to voice their opinions.

"We will do everything within our power to ensure your safety. Sirius, Ollie, Moody, and I will protect you, Mrs. Brennan, to the best of our ability. You will be _safe_. He will _not_ hurt you," he added, glancing over in the corner towards Moody for confirmation, whose magical eye was remaining strangely fixated on Norah Brennan.

The grizzled old Auror was eyeballing Everett's younger sister with a look that Remus could only describe as gruff admiration, or as close as he could come to it. Lupin nodded curtly by way of response, swiveling his head back around to collectively meet the others' piercing gaze, though his hardened stare remained fixated between Norah and Sirius.

"We'll allow you to come, Mrs. Brennan," barked Moody in his gruff, coarse voice as he hobbled his way out from skulking in the shadows of the furthermost corner of the room. "On _one_ condition," he added for emphasis.

Norah quickly nodded her head. Anything she would do to help the others find her brother, she would. "Of course. Anything," she promised in a nervous-sounding voice, reaching up a shaking hand to tuck a stray wisp of her white-blonde shaggy short hair back behind her ear.

Moody pressed his scarred lips, what was left of them, that is, into a thin line as his magical blue eye swiveled this way and that before he growled in frustration and the aging older wizard forced the device to be fixated solely on Mrs. Brennan's figure.

"You tell us _everything_ you know about your brother, Mrs. Brennan, and I mean down to the last _detail_ , and you start talking _now_ ," he growled in a low, menacing sort of a whisper. "If you've had any correspondence at all with him, I need it in my possession _yesterday_. Owl post, Muggle mail, anything you have, it's now _mine_ , Mrs. Brennan. If he sneezes, I want to be there when the bastard wipes his nose, first thing," he snapped. "And there may be a chance you'll be called upon to identify the man and testify against him in court."

"Charming, Alastor, really," snapped Sirius moodily, though Norah pointed ignored him, as she sat up straighter, though it did not take much convincing from her husband to sit on his lap.

Norah rested her chin on top of Ollie's thick tuft of black hair and never once averted her blue eyes from Moody. It seemed to take Norah ages to find her voice, but as she did, there was something strong, determined, unfazed about it.

Tonks knew at that moment, after all, she and Remus had made the right call in summoning her Patronus with her wand the moment Sirius had accidentally blown up the street in downtown London the very moment he had lost control of his magic, requesting Norah Brennan's immediate presence by her friend's side to help her cousin find a safe space to heal.

Not once did Norah look away from Mad-Eye Moody and his magically swiveling eye as she spoke in a calm and collected, quiet tone.

"What do you want to know, Alastor?"


	32. Chapter 32

Tonks wasn't sure how this day could possibly get any _worse_. She didn't want a brawl to break out in her best mate's home, Merlin damn it.

As much as she dreaded Sirius's temper, she had hoped to get through this initial conversation with everyone in the room present on her _own_ terms, thank you very much, and that did not include either Sirius or Ollie losing their tempers, respectively.

She flinched as Lupin half-rose from his spot next to her on the sofa and he addressed Sirius in a clipped and impatient tone.

"Sirius, please _calm down_ , you aren't the only one who cares for Renee," he spoke up, a hardened edge to his voice that hadn't been present before as his light brown eyes flashed and narrowed as he glared across the way at his best friend, while Tonks kept her gaze fixated on her two married best friends, thinking this was a huge imposition, what she was asking of Ollie.

 _And Norah_ , he piped up inside her mind. Tonks startled at his dipping into her stream of conscious thoughts as he had, but as he shot her an apologetic look and gave a light shrug of his shoulders, she felt the tension in her shoulders slowly release, and she offered him a wane smile.

"Can you find her, Ollie?" Tonks whispered, already knowing the answer, seeing it for herself in the man's bright blue eyes, currently smoldering with fathomless rage and annoyance at the unwanted presence of Sirius Black in his and his wife's home.

She let out a tired sigh, carding her fingers through her short bubblegum hair, wishing with all her might that circumstances were different, that she was visiting the Brennan household under more pleasant circumstances, but she was desperate.

"Yes," he answered, his smooth, languid voice smooth, rich, and melodious. It did not escape Tonks's attention how his cobalt blue eyes had darkened in annoyance, nor how Ollie continuously flitted her cousin darkened looks.

She didn't know what the hell the two men had argued about in the Three Broomsticks all those years ago, but Tonks knew if she and Remus couldn't find a way to calm him down, and fast, they could kiss this idea of the Brennan's helping locate Renee and Everett goodbye.

"What do you need from us in order to make this happen, Ollie? What can we do to help?" she pressed, glancing down, and winding her hands around the cup of freshly brewed tea Norah had painstakingly gotten up to get for everyone, though Tonks was not at all fooled.

She could sense in the young blonde witch's eyes she needed a moment to herself, and they all heard her sniffling little half-choked sobs of misery emanating faintly from inside the kitchen when she'd gone.

It had taken her almost ten minutes to return with the tea trays and their respective cups, but by the time she did, Norah was admittedly looking much more composed, though her pale blue eyes were cracked and red-rimmed at the edges of her haunted irises.

Ollie shot Sirius a pointed look, saying nothing towards the dark-haired former prisoner of Azkaban before swiveling his gaze back around to look his best friend in the eye.

"Silence would be best. Absolute silence. And…" Here, he paused, casting a distrusting, almost wrathful gaze towards Sirius again. "For you to get _out_ of my home, Black, after we're through here, and never set foot in my door again, and don't you _dare_ come near me or my wife," he growled, gnashing his teeth together.

Remus leaned forward in his seat, setting aside his own mug of tea, casting an interesting glance between the Brennan's and Sirius.

His ears perked up as Norah made an odd little strangled sound at the back of her throat the moment Sirius's grey eyes lingered on her, and it did not escape his attention that Sirius's eyes had widened as his eyes locked onto Norah's, as a light ignited in his grey orbs, as though he had suddenly remembered something long forgotten.

Sirius's face paled in horror as dawning recognition flitted across his face like a shadow, and he cast a furtive, almost guilty look towards Remus that immediately piqued his curiosity.

"What exactly happened between the two of you?" he questioned, furrowing his brows in confusion. "I think a little context here would go a long way in helping Dora and me to understand."

Ollie offered a curt nod towards Dora's husband, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he sat on the loveseat next to his wife, an arm wrapped around her shoulders in a protective, somewhat possessive embrace, hoping to provide his wife with what little comfort her could manage to give.

The fact that Tonks had asked for his help for the first time in admittedly a long time outside of work-related incidents was telling.

"It's not a pleasant story, you two," he managed to croak out in a weak, hoarse-sounding gasp. "I'm...not proud of it, what happened, but...if I show you, promise me that you won't think less of me for it," he said, lifting his gaze and allowing his bright blue eyes to settle over Tonks, who quickly nodded her agreement that she would, of course, she would.

And now, with her own cousin, that betrayer, that witless worm, under his roof, sitting in his chair, eating the food that Norah had painstakingly prepared for the two of them, considering what he had done, left him with an amazing feeling of conflict, a brand new injury.

A brand new humiliation, almost. A part of him shattered inside as his mind flitted back to that night in the Three Broomsticks that apparently, Black hadn't bothered to remember until just now, if judging by the look of shock that had snaked its way onto his face was anything for him and the others to go off of now.

Black was a hated _thief_ who had stolen something most precious to him at the time.

The hatred that coursed through his veins was not something that Ollie could articulate, though he ached to if it would help Dora and her husband to bloody understand where he was coming from, why he harbored such resentment towards Black.

Ollie let out a haggard sigh, his blue eyes growing almost painfully sad in his momentary surge of anger as he looked at his wife out of the corner of her eye, how her knees were pulled up close to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, and she was shaking.

Badly. Because of _him_ , and the memories that the group had resurfaced by bringing Black here.

Ollie raised one of his strong, slightly calloused hands so as to allow it to pass over the features of his handsome, but quite tired and pale face.

When the appendage ghosted over the bridge of his slender nose, he stopped, giving it a sharp pinch in a moment of self-frustration, not bothering to stifle the low growl that escaped from deep within the confines of his broad chest.

He offered Tonks as he blearily lifted his head an apologetic glance as another sigh left him, and before he lost his resolve, he waved his wand and pointed it at the closet in the front hallway.

The door flung open of its own accord with a loud, resounding _bang_ that made Norah jump.

Tonks and Lupin and Sirius sat up straighter in their respective places, mouths slightly agape in shock and equal expressions of wonder mixed with a slight twinge of unease in their eyes, Tonks' gaze never leaving Ollie's as he allowed their personal Pensieve to float to the middle of their living room parlor.

"See for _yourself_ , and please...don't think ill of me for what happened, Tonks," Ollie answered in a flat listless voice as he let out another tired sigh and collapsed back against the armchair.

He waved his wand once more, pressing the tip of it to his temple and allowing the chosen memory of that fated night in the Three Broomsticks to float lazily towards the hovering and waiting Pensieve, as Tonks and Lupin collectively rose from their places and made to move towards it with hands interlocked as one.

"It's all right," Norah whispered, interjecting before Ollie could open his mouth to speak. She reached over and gave Ollie's left hand a reassuring squeeze, the pads of her fingertips ghosting along with the metal of his wedding ring. "See for yourself, you will be the _first_ , he's never let _me_ see what happened," Norah repeated, sounding slightly put off and hurt, in her soft, timid voice, echoing her husband's words.

Tonks and Lupin exchanged a worried glance with one another before nodding and closing their eyes, dipping their heads into the Pensieve, and allowing the device to take them back to a night in her best friend's mind, to the fated night that he hated Sirius Black forever…

* * *

_Twenty-year-old Norah looked up as the bell above the door jangled and the hanging talking voodoo heads hung on the outside of the front door of the Three Broomsticks grumbled their displeasure, muttering a few choice words under their breaths, telling the new patron to shut the damn door before he let in all the snow and icy slush._

_The snow had been coming down so hard for so long that she didn't think anyone else would be coming into the Three Broomsticks today, given how nasty the blizzard outside was._

_When the weather got this bad, Madame Rosmerta typically only had one or two customers a day. She had been busying herself by using her wand to wipe down the cleaned tankards and wine glasses, using most of the downtime to read her latest copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Famed Magizoologist Newt Scamander._

_The young werewolf had not been granted permission by her and Everett's father, Elias, to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when Norah had turned eleven, claiming that, with her lycanthropy and at the time the Wolfsbane Potion had not yet been invented, that it was entirely too dangerous and not at all worth the risk._

_As a consequence, Elias Jameson had chosen to homeschool his second youngest, his beloved daughter, and provide the girl with as good of an education as he possibly could._

_Norah wanted only one thing in life: to study fantastic creatures and make a career out of it, perhaps open up her own menagerie one day._

_Her brother, Everett, encouraged the dream, telling Norah in private to go for it, whether Dad approved of her venture or not, to start thinking for herself and what she wanted of life, not what kind of life her father wanted her to have, or rather, in this case, would permit her._

_Norah had gotten a job not that long ago at the Three Broomsticks to earn a livable wage and with the dream of saving up enough Galleons and Sickles to buy one of the abandoned shops in Diagon Alley, the building quite decrepit, but once she was finished with it once she had purchased the rights to the building and gave it a good cleaning (with Everett's help!), she would finally be able to open up her own menagerie like she always wanted, and with any stroke of luck, perhaps even famed Newt Scamander himself would pay her shop a visit. She could only hope so!_

_The dull, dreary Friday had been dragging on, only one person coming in before the blizzard had raged war on the outside elements, and so Norah was happily surprised when the cloaked man came in._

_She jumped as if to move towards him, but Madame Rosmerta, also behind the counter and had been absentmindedly preening her nails and looking rather bored with nothing else to do, glanced up from her nail preening and shot the stranger a bright, white smile and intercepted him before Norah had a chance to stride out from behind the counter, and she gave her boss of about the last eight months or so a hard, stony glower as Madame Rosmerta merely blinked at her, Merlin bless that witch's soul._

_She had taken one look at Norah's application, not commenting on the fact that Norah had received no formal education from a magical institution, or the fact that she had shamefacedly confessed that she was a werewolf, it being the first thing out of her mouth when she applied for the job and had said when and if she wanted to talk about to her, then Rosmerta would be waiting for her to listen._

_Norah huffed in frustration as she settled back down behind the counter, her elbows propped up on the wooden counter, her cheeks resting in her fists as she observed the tavern's newcomer._

_The cloaked shrouded figure turned to observe Rosmerta in silence before almost stalking his way towards the counter where Norah stood idly waiting for the man to lower his cloak's hood and reveal his face._

_She thought it strange he hadn't done that already, and furrowed her brows in contemplative thought, though she exhaled a sigh of relief as the man pointedly lowered the hood of his thick black woolen cloak and grumbled irritably under his breath as he patted some snow that had fallen onto his hair._

_Norah inwardly cringed as the man lifted his sharp, angular chin and brushed a lock of his shoulder-length dark hair out of his eyes and off his shoulders to better keep it out of his way, and her heart sank to the pit of her stomach as she found herself looking into Sirius's Black's eyes._

_Norah swallowed thickly past the lump in her throat as she nervously flitted her gaze towards the door, hoping her boyfriend, Ollie, of almost a year now, a former Slytherin and accomplished Legilimens, would be stopping by to pick her up from the end of her shift like he had promised he would once he got off from work at the Ministry._

_She had met the raven-haired, blue-eyed man on an ill-fated cold December, alone, shivering with only her father's cloak for warmth after a particularly violent and brutal transformation, when a stranger had accosted her on the sidewalk and had attempted to torture her once the man in question found out she was a werewolf, but thanks to Ollie showing up when he had, he'd saved her before anything truly awful towards her had been allowed to happen._

_She still remembered his first words to her, after asking if she was all right and hurt at all._

_"I'm still cold," she remembered saying innocently enough, grasping onto his shoulders when he had pulled her closer, almost pressing her firmly against the cold brick wall at her back._

_Norah remembered Ollie's piercing eyes of blue, how they seemed to bear a hole straight through her eyes and to see into her heart, and what his response to her statement had been._

_"Let me take care of that, Norah," he had said in his low, seductive voice, and before she could so much as protest, his mouth came down on hers._

_The kiss had been sweet, gentle, but almost painful against her freezing skin._

_He'd held her firmly that night, almost bruising her mouth with his unrelenting kisses, but that had been the start of a truly beautiful, caring relationship._

_That fated first encounter had been almost a year ago, and the two had quickly entered into a relationship following Ollie escorting Norah safely home, even staying with her and tending to the worst of her wounds, not caring that she was a dangerous, savage wolf, like the rest of the world seemed to._

_He was able to look past that, and for that, Norah loved him all the more for it._

_Though right now, she sincerely hoped her boyfriend would make good on his promise to pick her up on time before her shift ended. She didn't like the look of intrigue in Black's eyes._

_The man had always been after her, having taken a fancy to her for whatever reason or other, despite knowing she was in a relationship._

_He'd never acted on his desires, of course. Even Black wouldn't stoop that low, but the moment he took a step forward and he staggered, almost stumbling, and only saving himself from tripping when he shot out an arm to brace his broad body against the counter, could Norah's wolfish, heightened sense of smell pick up on the Fire Whiskey spirit on his breath._

_He'd been drinking. Again._

_Norah's resolve nearly hesitated as she met Black's hardened gaze. She almost turned and let Rosmerta deal with Sirius, but Norah held herself still, straight, and proud, jutting her chin out slightly defiantly._

_Sirius furrowed his dark brows in a frown as he leaned forward on the counter, placing both of his palms flat against the mahogany surface._

_"You're drunk, Black. Go home," she muttered under her breath in annoyance as she reached for a rag underneath the counter to wipe a glass. "We don't serve patrons that are already hungover. Get out," she snapped, no hint of warmth in her voice, not liking how Black's pale grey orbs wandered up and down the length of her body in her red turtleneck sweater dress, black leggings, and knee-high black ankle boots._

_"I'm not…drunk…lost bet…with Hagrid…it's…how I cope," he slurred in a dark tone, but he stepped back a few paces, cursing under his breath as he almost tripped over a stool._

_She felt her facial muscles stiffen and tense as she strode out from behind the counter, glancing wildly to the left and right for any sign of Rosmerta, but the tavern owner had vanished._

_Norah let out a tired sigh. It looked like it would be up to her, as usual, to deal with Sirius._

_"There's no…no music in here," barked Black in a rough, coarse grating voice as he looked around. "Why doesn't…Rosmerta play Celestina Warbeck or the Weird Sisters or something? Ought to really liven the place up a bit, yeah?"_

_But before Norah could answer, he met her gaze, the intensity of his eyes causing her to blush as she wanted nothing more than to look away._

_But Norah knew if she did that, then he would have won, and he'd know he made her uneasy._

_"Will you…sing me a song, Norah? You've always had…a pretty voice," Sirius grumbled._

_"You want me to sing you a song, Black? Are you out of your Merlin-damned mind?" Norah asked with a defiant tone as she strode towards him, her wand clutched tightly in her hand._

_Sirius staggered backward toward the front door as Norah continued to advance on him._

_"Have you offered Brennan a song yet tonight?" he snapped, spitting Ollie's surname as though it were a poisoned piece of chocolate that had settled and lingered upon his tongue. "Or do I have the honor of being the first, Norah?" he asked._

_Norah's face flushed bright crimson in anger. He was only trying to get a rise out of her, his petty way of dealing with his own jealousy, she suspected, but she had a job to do, and this man was quite literally standing in the way of that._

_She took a deep breath and turned to look at Norah, cocking his head to the side and looking at her much like a stray dog would do whenever it had cornered something it found most curious._

_Though before she could part her lips open to speak, to raise her wand and point it at the front door, given Black's back was resting against the door's frame, with the intent of kicking him out, she let out a startled yelp as he staggered forward, his equilibrium off from how buzzed he was from however much Fire Whiskey he'd downed._

_Norah let out a squeak as she felt herself beginning to lean back the moment his strong hands gripped onto her shoulders to stop himself from falling, squeezing her eyes shut as Norah felt the back of her skull collide against the hardwood floor of the tavern, hard._

_She and Sirius looked a bloody mess, a tangle of limbs and a rather suggestive pose, at that._

_Norah grunted and groaned at the throbbing pain that exploded in the front and back of her head as she shook his shoulder lightly, but Sirius made no move to force himself off of her and help her up off the floor._

_Instead, he slurred his speech and mumbled something incoherent, rolled over, throwing up an arm, catching Norah around her slender shoulders, and causing the young bartender to fall on top of Sirius._

_It also didn't help matters that it was at that precise moment that she heard the front door open with a loud, resounding band, flung open so hard she heard it rattle in its hinges, and there stood Ollie._

_She heard him inhale sharply, and then started spluttered frantically in a panic._

_"Don't just stand there, Ol!" she hissed at him, still grunting with the futile effort to remove Sirius's arm. "Get him off of me, Ollie, please!"_

_Her boyfriend's heavy footfalls approached their spot on the floor in front of the door quickly and then the crushing force of Black's body that was pinning her to the ground was gone._

_Before she could manage to catch her breath and straighten up completely, Ollie knelt down slightly, grabbing her by her upper arm and spun her away from Sirius's semi-conscious form, though the man seemed to be regaining the power of cognitive thought, at least a little._

_Ollie turned Norah in his calloused hands, so the young blonde witch was now facing him, a mixture of emotions on his features._

_"Are you hurt, Norah?" he asked, his quiet tone suddenly sounding angered, clipped, and rather demanding. Concern and more than a hint of rage flitted through his sky-blue eyes as he looked his girlfriend up and down for any injuries. "Did Black hurt you?" he growled._

_Norah had never seen this side of Ollie before. It was almost…possessive._

_She didn't even know what to call the burning, smoldering look in the man's blue eyes, darkening, almost cerulean in color the angrier he became as his gaze remained fixed on hers, desperately searching her eyes for the truth._

_"N—no," she stumbled over the word, shaken at his set expression, at the way a muscle in his angular jaw twitched, and his angry tone. "I—I'm not hurt, Ol. I don't think Black knew what he was doing. He's been drinking again."_

_Ollie wrenched his head to the side and glowered at the dark-haired former Gryffindor. Norah felt a chill run down her spine._

_Why was her boyfriend acting so out of character? It was almost like watching someone try to take a bone from a vicious dog._

_Maybe it was a bad analogy, but it was the only thing she could think of to describe his shift in countenance._

_Whatever the hell was the matter, Norah knew she had to try to calm her boyfriend down._

_But before she could, Ollie turned his attention toward Sirius, removing his wand that he had hidden up the sleeve of his black woolen sweater._

_"You've gone too far," he hissed through gritted teeth, balling his free hand into a fist, and lowering it to his side, Norah noticing his entire body was shaking, as though fighting against something dark festering within and losing. "You damn fool. Did you want to see my magic that badly?" Ollie shouted, his face draining of color as his free hand conjured a large ball of flame with next to little effort on Ollie's part to conjure it._

_A burning rage hit Ollie so hard he didn't have time to properly sort through his emotions. One minute he was standing outside the Three Broomsticks, wondering where to take Norah for dinner tonight, maybe that new Muggle Italian place she'd been eyeballing for the last two weeks, where he had been hoping to ask Norah to marry him, having gone with Tonks earlier today to a jeweler in Hogsmeade to pick out something that they thought Norah would like, and then the next, he'd walked in to pick up his girlfriend from her shift to find…that, and his good mood immediately vanished._

_His emotions raged war uncontrollably within the Legilimens, feeling nothing but anger towards Black for the scene he'd walked in on._

_"You started this! Not me, Black," he growled, his words escaping him as almost a low growl, his chest practically vibrating from the noise._

_The moment Ollie hurtled the first jinx Black's way and sent the former Gryffindor sailing through the air, his reflexes so fast Black barely had time to blink, much less register what had happened, a new fear threatened to consume Norah._

_Something within Brennan had changed, and it was not a change in Ollie Norah liked. The man's normally kind sky-blue eyes had shifted since the moment he walked into the Three Broomsticks and found Sirius lying on top of Norah in an unorthodox and suggestive way. His eyes had darkened to a cerulean hue that burned with a rage she'd never seen before in the gentle Legilimens._

_At least, he was always gentle around her. Perhaps the only other time she'd seen the man lose his temper was the night the two of them had met and he'd saved her life._

_His gentleness had since vanished at the moment as Black and Brennan dueled one another, streams of red and blue lights surging in all directions through the Three Broomsticks._

_Norah swore she could hear Madame Rosmerta shouting something, but whatever it was, it was inaudible, as her eardrums were now filled with nothing but a fatigued ringing, causing the sounds around her to become faint._

_Her boyfriend's timidness was non-existent. He was…he was angry. No, not angry. Furious._

_In the year that she had been dating Ollie, Norah had never quite seen the man like this before. Frustrated, yes, annoyed, absolutely._

_But furious? No, never. This was…very new._

_The growl he'd released from deep within his chest sent a shiver of cold fear up and down her back. Somewhere deep within the recesses of her heart and mind, Norah knew that Ollie would never hurt her, never cause her harm, never do anything that would cause her strife on purpose, but to see him like this in a blind fury, ready to kill Black where he stood, it was scary as hell._

_"Ollie, please don't!" Norah screamed, already knowing neither wizard could hear her over their shouting match._

_She was afraid Brennan would lose himself, lose the part of him that made the man she'd grown to love over the course of a year, what he truly was, that this experience would scar him._

_Ollie was not a violent man by any means, he was not a wizard who lived in anger. He was kind, he was a good, good man, with a pure heart. To see him in this way, was almost…heartless. He…he meant the world to her!_

_The thought of losing him if she allowed this to continue scared her more than the spells that were flying haphazardly through the tavern in all directions, so fast she could hardly keep up._

_Thinking fast, wanting to do something, anything she could to help, Norah flung herself at Ollie's back in the hopes of stepping in between the two dueling, feuding wizards._

_The young blonde witch would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid as she adjusted her firm grip on the handle of her own wand, her hands slick with sweat and fear. There was little hope for what she was about to do, and yet, Norah found that, though she was afraid of whatever would hurl her way, she wouldn't change a Merlin-damned thing about it._

_In her own way, Norah had found something worth protecting, and that thing was standing right in front of her, frozen, staring incredulously with wide, blue eyes, brimming with unshed moisture, a look of disbelief on his handsome features as the edges of his close-cropped neat dark beard twitched without Ollie having to prompt it._

_He was worth fighting for._

_Ollie was the source of her strength, her determination, her will to make something of herself. The Legilimens had taught her about the joy of finding the small things of life, discovering her love for undiscovered creatures alongside her every step of the way, and in return, he had given her the greatest gift imaginable._

_His love, his trust, and friendship._

_Norah steeled herself, pivoting on her heel and raising her wand, prepared to blast Black into oblivion with a well-deserved Bat Bogey Hex, there was a horrible flash of red out of the corner of her peripherals, and a cloud of white haze and pain erupted from behind her eyelids._

_She squeezed her eyes shut, blinded, and unable to see. Norah screamed at the pain, and before darkness blinded her, she hung onto the voice of the only person she cared to listen to. To Ollie._

_And her ringing eardrums caught sight of one word, a word that she hoped the man would never dare utter against her, ever._

_"Obliviate."_

_And then, her world went black._


	33. Chapter 33

Tonks staggered backward the moment the Pensieve's chosen memory came to an end, and she would have likely stumbled back onto the couch had Remus not shot out an arm to catch her around the waist to prevent his wife from falling.

She shot him a grateful look with her eyes, silently trying to thank her husband for catching her fall. Lupin silently returned his wife's look with one of his own that said he didn't.

"Oh, _Ollie_ ," she whispered in a hoarse voice, blearily struggling to focus her still somewhat dizzy gaze more than a few feet in front of her, as she lifted her chin and met her friend's gaze. "How _could_ you? What were you _thinking_ , Ol? Your own _wife_?" she asked, the words feeling sticky in her throat as she swallowed past a lump.

Her best mate seemed to suddenly have trouble meeting her gaze as his pale cheeks were now flushed high with color and he turned his gaze towards the fireplace instead, before slowly swiveling his head towards his wife, Norah, who was in the midst of tending to one of Sirius's wounds.

"Should we call for a Healer to come to the house, love, do you think?" Norah questioned Ollie in a serious tone, either ignoring Tonks's desperate question she had just posed to her husband or having missed it completely, too engrossed in her work.

Blood was seeping out of Black's shoulder, Tonks noticed, with a sickening feeling of dread swooping in the pit of her stomach and she felt physically sick, though not at the sight of her cousin's wounds, but rather, at what he'd done.

 _You…you took Norah's memories_?! _Ollie, how could you keep something like this from her?! What were you thinking_?! She yelled, communicating with the man in their impossible shared telepathy, a gift that was unique only to the two of them in this room.

Ollie's blush intensified if such a thing was at all possible, and even in his mind, his words were faint, and he sounded shamefaced to her.

 _I…there was no other WAY, Dora. I didn't want her to…to see that side of me. I was afraid she would leave me_ , Ollie answered bitterly, a muscle in his jaw twitching and his blue eyes hardening in his growing anger and annoyance.

 _Does your wife know the truth_? Tonks posed, already feeling she had her answer, judging by the look of hurt and shame in the man's eyes. It seemed to take him an eternity, even in his own way, to find his voice, even inside his mind.

 _No_. Ollie pursed his lips into a thin line and, not wanting to meet his best mate's gaze, flitted his attention towards that of his wife, who was still doing what she could to tend to Black's wounds, much to his chagrin, Tonks noticed.

Tonks felt her heart sink to the pit of her churning stomach as she watched the spritely little blonde do what she could to help Sirius.

 _A man she doesn't even remember_ , she thought, feeling her grey eyes widen in horror. A steady current of red crimson liquid had erupted from Sirius's shoulder, pulling her out of the tormented thoughts of her own mind for a moment, for which, Tonks guessed she was grateful for the temporary distraction to take her mind off what Ollie had done to his poor wife.

Well, girlfriend at the time.

With a frustrated huff, Norah reached over the little side table that rested to the armchair's immediate left that Black was occupying, hoping to still the blood flow, but Sirius smacked her hand away.

Tonks inwardly flinched as she witnessed a flicker of anger dart through Ollie's burning bright blue eyes as her best mate half rose from his chair, his lips parted open to speak as if he fully intended to yell at Sirius for more or less touching his wife, though upon Norah peeking back over her shoulder and shooting Ollie a pointed look and a curt shake of her head.

Tonks heard him sigh in exasperation before wearily collapsing back against his black leather armchair, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger in utter exhaustion.

She felt Remus relax beside her, with Lupin having moved to stand almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Tonks, as he'd risen from his spot on the living room sofa, the fingers of his wand curled tightly around the handle of his wand, ready to intervene if need be at the first sign of any trouble, from anyone in the room, she knew. Remus shot her a silently withering look, communicating without so many words that he greatly disapproved of Ollie's actions back then.

She returned the look with one of her own that suggested she silently agreed, before returning her attention back to Ollie. _Will you tell her, Ol_?

 _I…_ The man seemed to give a start at her words, slowly lifting his head from his hands and turning rather sanguinely in his chair to look at his best mate, having opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was about to say to her in his mind was cut off by the sound of Sirius's yell.

He let out a hiss as Norah gingerly dabbed at the wound with a bloodied, old handkerchief.

"You might not be a certified Healer, Mrs. Brennan, but I'd rather have _you_ tend this than some bumbling old _fool_ at St. Mungo's," he said. Sitting almost perfectly still, Sirius watched with cold eyes as Norah struggled to tend to him. The flow of blood in the man's right arm had begun to slow, and Norah silently praised Merlin.

"I would say this is going to hurt like hell, Black," Norah weakly joked towards Sirius in a pitiful attempt to diffuse the mounting tension in both Tonks's cousin and her husband, "but then I think I'd be stating the obvious. Hold still."

With those words, Norah's now red-stained long, slender fingers wound themselves around a strip of fresh gauze before swiftly tying the material into a tight knot, making a makeshift tourniquet.

Tonks flinched as she watched Sirius suck in a sharp breath, but that was the only noise her handsome cousin made.

 _Naturally_ , Tonks thought darkly to herself sarcastically at the noise. _Black is immune to pain, isn't he?!_ When the man's shoulder was finally wrapped and bandaged with fresh gauze, Norah backed away, the nervousness she'd felt when she'd started now fully disappeared when she'd begun work on the man's wound coming back in force.

Tonks could tell by the dawning look of horror in Sirius's eyes, that upon laying eyes on the young blonde, the Memory Charm Ollie had put him under must have ceased to work on the man.

 _He knows, Ollie_ , Tonks offered in her mind. Ollie, in turn, shot her a pointed look that told Tonks without the man having to say a word, that he knew that. Merlin's Beard, but did he know.

"We _have_ to tell Norah, this isn't _right_ , _keeping_ this from her, Dora," Remus whispered, lowering his voice to a level that only Tonks could possibly hear, leaning forward and to the side slightly so he could whisper it into the shell of her right ear.

Ollie wrung his hands, looking anywhere but at his wife, too ashamed, Tonks guessed, to look at her, feeling unclean and unworthy of his wife, if she knew her best mate's thoughts and feelings, and by now, into their years-long friendship, she liked to think that she did, thank you very much.

 _We have to tell her, Ollie. You know it's best, and it's the right thing to do. She's your WIFE, Ol. Those are the memories you stole from her. She deserves to know the truth. Should you tell, or should I_?

Tonks pressed the Legilimens in what she hoped was a cautious but guarded tone, fully steeling herself for another of Ollie's outbursts.

When her words did not elicit any kind of response from her best friend, who merely proceeded to let out a low moan and buried his head in his hands, carding his fingers through his thick tuft of short jet-black hair in utter agony, Tonks decided it was going to have to come from her. Oh, but Merlin, she was going to _hate_ this! Could tonight possibly get any worse?

Apparently, it could. Renee was kidnapped, quite possibly dead, with no clue where to begin searching for her and to top it all off, her best mate had modified her friend—his wife's own memories against her will, and that of Sirius's, more to the point!

"Norah, I…" Tonks hesitated, biting down hard on her bottom lip enough to bleed, visibly wincing as the young blonde slowly lifted her head to look at Tonks, the curiousness in her bright blue eyes dimmed, and the smile slid off her face instantly.

"What's wrong, Tonks? Do you want water or something? Are you sick? You're looking pale. Can I get you something?" Norah asked, her face paling as she took a seat next to Ollie, perching herself on the right armrest of his chair.

The blonde's eyebrows knitted together with worry and concern as her gaze raked over Tonks's rapidly paling face as Tonks struggled to find her words. Tonks swallowed thickly, trying again.

"No, I…th—there's…something I need to tell you, Norah, and it's _not_ going to be _easy_ to hear, but you need to listen to me and hear me out," Tonks stammered, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling like a blind and bloody fool for having to be the one to do this to her, but they had no choice.

Remus was right. Norah deserved to know, and those were _her_ memories. She had that right to know the full truth of what had happened that night.

Tonks exhaled a shaking breath through her nose as her friend and colleague at the Ministry merely stared at her from her perch on the chair's armrest, sitting, waiting, acting as a patient, polite adult while Tonks struggled to formulate an apt response to tell Norah what she had just witnessed alongside Lupin in the Pensieve, but she was having trouble finding the words.

For several long moments, there was nothing but the sound of the crackling fire in the living room fireplace.

Tonks shifted, a bit awkwardly, and fidgeted with her fingers, toying with her simple gold wedding band on her left ring finger, unable to shake off the growing feeling of great unease that had settled on her shoulders like a heavy boulder, feeling more like a weighted burden. She almost regretted speaking at all. _Almost_.

"Y—you were _there_ , that night, a—at the Three Broomsticks, the night Ollie and Sirius got into a brawl," Tonks hastily explained, wanting to get this conversation over with as soon as possible. "Y—your husband, to—to save you the pain of remembering what happened, well, he…he modified your memory and erased it off that night completely. That was why you couldn't recognize Sirius earlier when he woke up…"

She winced the moment the words left her lips, realizing they hadn't been the best way to start off the confession that Ollie was too ashamed to make for himself. In truth, she was stricken with a horrible feeling of betrayal, feeling this wasn't her business at all, but here she was, caught in the middle.

Though, considering all other topics that could delicately broach such a sensitive subject, maybe it was just best to dive right in and get it out into the open.

She shook her head and chuckled humorlessly in the attempt to hope to diffuse the mounting tension in the living room.

"He _loves_ you, with all his heart. He—he was looking out for you, a—and he did what he thought was best at the time in order to _protect_ you," Tonks hastily explained, seeing the antagonized hurt welling within Norah's burning bright blue eyes. She clamped her mouth shut the moment she realized her words were not exactly helping.

She bit her bottom lip and had trouble meeting her dear friend's questioning, piercing gaze as tears began to flood Norah's bright blue eyes, burning with anger and hurt as she forced herself to focus on Ollie.

Norah lacked the strength to wipe them away. "H—how could you _do_ that to me, Ol?"

The hurt look on her husband's face was alone to confirm the horrifying truth, coupled with the fact the Legilimens could barely meet her gaze and force himself to look his wife in the eyes. She then felt the blood that ran through her veins stop cold, and the blood within surged through the young blonde's veins and threatened to freeze her whole insides now.

Ollie breathed in a deep breath and blearily lifted his chin to better look his wife in the eyes.

"I—I did what I thought was best for you, love." His voice was very nearly shaking, as he knew anything he said might only anger his wife even more than she already was. "It was the only thing I could think of."

"Y—you _lied_ to me, Ollie," Norah cried, blinking back tears, and finding it more increasingly difficult to do so as she bolted to her feet, restlessly pacing in front of the fireplace, and running her fingers through her hair. "I—I shouldn't even want to _talk_ to you after something like this!" Norah yelled.

"You're still not _hearing_ me, sweetheart, I—I did what I had to in order to _protect_ you," Ollie stared over at Norah with wide blue eyes as he rose from his chair, flinching as he noticed Lupin and Tonks slowly rose from their spot as if to intervene, but they quickly sat back down upon being on the receiving end of a harsh glower from Moody.

"Stand _down_ ," Moody barked gruffly, addressing solely Lupin and Tonks. "This is _their_ issue to hash out, you two. Don't interfere," he growled in a low warning tone.

Tonks made an odd little strangled noise at the back of her throat, though upon feeling the tempered grip of Lupin's hand rest on her shoulder, she felt the tension in her shoulders leave her wound up muscles and she reluctantly allowed herself to relax, giving her a curt nod of her head towards Mad-Eye, before turning her attention back to her two married best friends' argument.

Tonks settled her gaze on Norah and Ollie again just in time to see Ollie gingerly approach his wife, only for Norah to shove his chest just then at that particular second. Not as hard as the witch likely could have, but hard enough to catch Ollie off guard, causing the Legilimens to stumble backward a few paces.

Norah swallowed past the lump in her throat, blinking back tears. "How _could_ you, Ollie? _Why_?! Did you think me to be weak, that I couldn't handle it? All these years, you didn't tell me!"

"Norah, sweetheart, please, just—just let me _explain_!" Ollie exclaimed, raising his hands in slight self-defense, feeling his breaths become caught in his throat after his wife had shoved him. He wasn't hurt, by any means, at least not physically, but the fact that Norah had lashed out at him physically after the truth was revealed was unsettling.

"Why _should_ I?" Norah all but screamed as she shoved her husband, harder this time. "You won't tell me the _truth_!"

Ollie flinched as he stumbled back a few paces, almost colliding into the armrest of the chair in front of the fire that Sirius happened to be resting in. He was breathing even harder now as he widened his eyes to stare in shock and confusion at the smoldering, fathomless, burning pits of glacier-blue staring right back into his eyes.

"I _know_ you're angry with me, Nor," he spoke in as calm a tone as he could manage, which even this was difficult considering how much his voice shook, 'but everything's going to be just _fine_ , sweetheart, you'll see. I—"

But Norah interrupted her husband before he could say his piece, by shoving him again, even harder this time as he approached her.

"Everything **WON'T** be fine, Ollie! You—you _betrayed_ my _trust_! How could you _keep_ that from me, Ollie? You stole my memories from me, I had the right to know what happened! I—I would have _forgiven_ you, Ol, you know that, but I can _see_ it now, that you don't _trust_ me enough, that you don't think me capable of handling the plain truth, Ollie! You think I'm _weak_ , don't you, just because I'm a werewolf?! That, what, I need _protecting_?!" she yelled, and when she exhaled a shaking breath and continued to speak to her husband again, her voice was lower, much calmer than before, causing Tonks to flinch.

For Ollie's sake, she almost would have preferred it had Norah just shouted. But this dangerously low tone in which she spoke was almost ten times worse than that.

"You're _ashamed_ of me," Norah whispered, her blue eyes widening in shock. "That's what this is. I _see_ it now. Even if you don't want to admit it, I know it's true, Ollie," she growled in a low, dangerous voice. "That's why you don't trust me.

" _No_ , Norah, that is _not_ true, and you _know_ that, sweetheart!" Ollie shouted, the last vestiges of his patience breaking as what little color was left in his face, to begin with now depleted as he staggered backward, the force and hurtfulness of her words hitting him square in the chest as though he'd been Stunned.

And for as still as he became, rooted to his spot, transfixed and unable to move, the man might as well have been. Norah stalked towards Ollie again, and Tonks could no longer bear the tension.

She bolted from her spot on the couch, Lupin right on her heels, and moved to stand in between Norah and Ollie, before turning to Norah to address her friend and Everett's brother in a clipped and hardened tone in response to the young blonde witch's uncharacteristically volatile behavior.

Lupin moved to stand alongside Ollie and set a firm hand on his shoulder, preventing the man from taking a step towards his wife.

"We _won't_ let you hurt Ollie, Norah," Tonks spoke up, bringing herself to stand in front of Remus, who held steadfast onto Ollie's shoulder with gentle arms. "I know you can't understand his actions right now, but he's your _husband_ , Norah. He _loves_ you. You _know_ that, and we all can see how much he does," she added, swallowing hard and looking towards Moody in the corner. Tonks couldn't be sure as she met the grizzled old Auror's gaze, but she swore she saw a flicker of admiration dart through his one good eye.

Lupin slowly nodded his agreement at his wife's words, unable to resist chiming in with his own opinion in the hopes of de-escalating the situation and getting on with Ollie helping them locate Norah by using his abilities.

"You _can't_ throw all that away, Mrs. Brennan. Yes, Ollie made a _mistake_ , but he has apologized, and what happens next is up to you. Will you forgive him?" he questioned.

Norah gnashed her teeth together in response and swallowed down hard as she made a move towards Lupin and Tonks, who was still standing guard in defense of Ollie.

It wasn't until Tonks took a cautious half-step forward and raised her wand partially that Norah ceased her efforts to reach Ollie.

"I…I think I need to _leave_ , I—I can't be around you right now, Ollie, it _hurts_ too much," she managed to gasp out in a hoarse little whisper, blinking back her tears as she swallowed a lump in her throat. " _Don't_ try to follow me, either one of you," Norah whispered. "I'll find him _myself_ , without your help. He's _my_ brother, and I can do this on my _own_ ," she hissed through gritted teeth as she squeezed her eyes shut as a stray tear escaped her lids as she shoved past Ollie, jostling his shoulder in the process of vacating their living room, causing everyone to flinch in discomfort as the front door slammed shut, leaving a ringing in their ears.

"You all right, Ollie?" Tonks asked as she turned towards the distressed Legilimens, looking as though he very much wanted nothing more than to follow his wife out the front door, but recognizing to honor her wishes and not follow her, to give her space.

A heavy, awkward silence lingered in the living room parlor, and for a moment, no one spoke. As Tonks gingerly approached Ollie where he stood, still seemingly frozen, rooted to his spot, Tonks looked into her best friend's eyes and saw a sight she never hoped to see. Ollie's face had drained of color and his expression had become unreadable.

He kept his gaze fixated on the hallway that Norah had just left from, towards the door, seemingly torn between his desires to go after her and bring her back and at the same time, wanting to help Tonks and the others try to locate Renee by tapping into her mind.

It was disturbing, to see his face, usually so jovial and happy to see her, now unreadable.

"Ollie?" Tonks repeated, speaking to her best mate in a quiet and cautious voice as she continued to approach the man cautiously, not sure what to expect since Norah had verbally attacked him and physically as well once she knew the truth.

His head was bowed, staring at the floor beneath his boots, not looking at Tonks. Tears pricked and marred the edges of her vision and Tonks found she had to fight back a half-choked sob that threatened to escape her lips.

Tonks took a deep breath, steeling herself.

She had to keep herself together, to be Ollie's pillar of strength, and then, they would try to find Renee with his help, and then they would try to find both Norah and Renee before Everett could get at either one.

Apparently, Tonks wasn't the only one who thought so, as the faint sound of something rustling and what sounded like shuffling footsteps reached her eardrums, causing her ears to perk up at the noise as she whirled around on her heels to see what made the noise.

Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach as Sirius hobbled his way towards the front door, making to copy Norah's movements.

"We have to _go_ ," he growled. Startled by the sound of Sirius's voice, which sounded rough and coarse, and more at the sight of her cousin up on his feet so soon, considering the extent of his injuries.

Tonks twisted at the waist slightly to see Sirius quite literally limping his way towards the front door, though he'd paused just in the entryway that separated the threshold of the living room of the Brennan's home and that of the entryway towards the front door.

He was clutching onto the edge of a small rectangular wooden side table for support, the poor man's bruised knuckles practically bone white with the effort to steady himself.

Color had returned to his face since Norah had made Sirius sit by the fire and had forced the man to eat something, and he appeared well enough to walk and hold his wand, Tonks was relieved to see, but in her past experience, looks could deceive you.

Still remaining standing where she was, feeling Remus move to stand almost so their shoulders were touching, Tonks shook her head no at her cousin in disagreement, silently shooting a pleading look towards Moody, still sitting on the stool in the corner.

They might need Mad-Eye's help in calming Sirius down, judging from the looks of him.

"You're still _wounded_ , Sirius. You're in _no_ condition to be coming with us, mate, you're a liability with your condition. I'm sorry, Sirius, but we need you to stay put," she murmured, a light pink blush speckling on her cheeks as she looked to Lupin for help.

If anyone could talk down Sirius from his currently agitated state, it was Remus. Sirius seethed, gnashing his teeth together as he proceeded to shoot both Lupin and Tonks looks of incredulous disbelief and ire.

"Do you really think I'm going to let some stupid arm injury get in my way?" He spat the word 'injury' as though it were poison in his mouth. His expression became hardened, morphing into one of despair intermingled with a fierce set determination, the likes of which Tonks had not seen in her cousin before. "I'm going to find Renee one way or another. And Norah too. Do either of you mean to stop me?" Sirius growled angrily, his posture stiffening and his hackles raised.

Sirius left the question hanging in the air as a threat and Tonks knew he meant every Merlin-damned bloody word of it. There was no changing Black's mind once it was made up.

He was, like it or not, truly, and hopelessly smitten, perhaps even in love with Renee Elizabeth Barreau, that girl, that Muggle woman, and would go to any lengths necessary to try to get her away from Everett.

Tonks let out a haggard sigh as she pinched at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

 _If_ what Sirius felt for Renee was real, like she suspected it to be, then who the hell was she to stand in the way of love?

"Fine," she relented exasperatedly, glancing towards Remus out of the corner of her eye, who quickly nodded his agreement, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "I suppose it wouldn't really matter if we all said 'no' in the first place. You'd follow us anyway," she sighed, looking back to Ollie.

The poor man still hadn't come out of his petrified state, still staring transfixed at the front door of his home as though paralyzed.

"Come on, Ollie," she encouraged, placing a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "We'll find Norah. She can't have gone far, mate."

 _That_ did it. Her words were enough to inspire a response from her best friend. Ollie's head jerked up so fast that Tonks withdrew her hand as though she'd been burnt. She swallowed down hard as she looked into the man's piercing eyes of blue, now narrowed and darkened, almost cerulean in color, and they'd lost their typical warmth she usually found within.

His eyes were now ablaze with some raw, untamed emotion Tonks could not identify, and his facial expression was hurt and grim.

"I…I _hurt_ her, Tonks," he croaked in a hushed whisper, his voice betraying the regret Ollie felt when he spoke to her as he finally lifted his gaze and picked it off the floor, forcing himself to meet her gaze at last.

Tonks nodded slowly. There was no point in trying to deny that.

"It's _done_ , Ol, it happened, there's no point in wishing things had been different. You—you lost control that night, it's true, but…there's still a chance to make things right for us. For her, and you can do that by helping all of us here in this room find her. Talk to Renee. If you can find her, we'll _find_ Norah. She'll go wherever her brother is, I'm sure of it, Ollie," she whispered, pulling the man into a loose embrace.

Tonks was grateful that, judging by the look of sympathy Remus shot her, her husband bore no ill will from Ollie seeking comfort from his best friend in a moment of need.

"And it's going to take more than this little misunderstanding between you two to get rid of Norah. She's one tough nut to crack," Tonks joked weakly, hoping to lighten the mood. She was relieved when the faintest ghost of a smile flitted across the man's face.

She took a moment to gaze into her best mate's sky blue eyes, unable to break away from the sheer emotion within those irises of pale blue. Warmth seeped through every part of her whenever she was around Ollie, the man always filling her with comfort and a sense of belonging, whether he knew it or not.

The man was like an older brother to her.

" _Hey_!"

Annoyed, the pair abruptly broke eye contact, startled out of the unspoken moment of friendship that passed between the two, spun about to the left to see Sirius leaning against the doorframe of the front door, one foot positioned behind the other, and his hand on the brass doorknob.

He was looking rather annoyed about something, and it did not take an intellectual genius like Dumbledore to be present in the room for Tonks to know that he worried after Renee and Norah, not wanting either woman that he had wronged to fall into Everett's clutches and into harm's way.

"This is all nice and _heartwarming_ , but could you get a damn _move_ _on_ , Brennan, and do you…whatever it is that you do?" he growled, wildly gesticulating with his hands to make his point, referring to Ollie's ability to communicate with those of his choosing.

Tonks, still resting against Ollie's chest, not willing to relinquish her grip on her friend just yet, felt the man stiffen at the biting retort, though thank Merlin, he kept quiet.

Sirius stared at Ollie Brennan, the man's blue eyes overcame with disbelief at the fact that his beloved wife had walked out on him, utterly wrought with disbelief and heartache, along with the fact that he could shock the man into anger (and hopefully, into action!)

" _Be quiet_!" Ollie barked hoarsely, his loud yell of annoyance and anger reverberating off the wall. He gingerly removed Tonks's arms from his shoulders and staggered backward. "I need to…to _focus_. I need _silence_ to listen."

He hissed his words through clenched teeth more than spoke them and was utterly relieved when everyone in the room respected his wish and the room descended into total and utter silence, the quiet so still that Ollie could almost hear a pin drop.

Exhaling a shaking breath through his nose, Ollie squeezed his eyes shut, feeling nothing within his heart except an extreme sense of guilt and regret at what he'd done to Norah.

How deeply he had wounded his wife. He owed her a huge apology whenever he found her, and only hoped Norah might be given forgiveness for his misdeeds towards her. But the first order of business was as Tonks said, to find this Barreau girl.

 _Find her, and we'll find my wife_ , he told himself. _To me…here…come back…to me_ …he probed… Behind closed lids, he saw nothing but blackness, and then…he could see… _her_.

The Barreau girl was utterly terrified, causing a pang of pity to prick at his heartstrings. When she lifted her gaze to plead with someone, most likely Norah's brother, Ollie felt himself give a start at the vision of the girl's lovely face.

 _My God, she—she does look like Norah_ , he thought wildly, still keeping his eyes closed, though he gave his head a curt shake to clear his mind.

He could not afford to become distracted. Ollie nodded to himself and refocused his attention on the girl's dark, damp environment. Wherever she was, it was cold. Tendrils of ice as he allowed himself to reach Barreau's mind swelled in his veins. His very heartfelt like a glacier, with an abstract of grey clouding Renee Barreau's vison, haunting.

 _Can you hear me, Renee_? He was answered with a truly horrible ear-piercing scream that made him reel back. It was the sort of scream that bypassed the ears and spoke right to his shattered heart.

Ollie ground his teeth, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, forcing his mind to focus on anything that might discern where she was. In the darkroom she was in, even the ticking of the clock on the wall above the blonde's head had a relaxed feeling. But Barreau felt anything _but_ calm.

The darkness was suffocating, pressing in softly, though Ollie, as the girl moved slowly and cautiously about whatever safehouse Everett had spirited her away to, through the living room.

He could tell from the threadbare sofa pushed up against the wall. His eye caught the glimmer of movement from Renee Barreau's immediate left, and though Ollie itched to probe her mind more, to see through her eyes what she was seeing, he had a job to do and his inquisitive, sharp blue eyes lingered on what looked like a copy of _Witch Weekly_ , old, tattered at the edges, and not at all something he would have expected to find in Norah's brother's house.

Ollie felt his heart momentarily creep its way up into his throat as his eyes caught sight of the address on the bottom right corner of the copy of the magazine, no doubt delivered to Everett years ago by owl post.

He had him. He knew the address now. _Got you, you vicious bastard_ , he thought, and that was when he opened his eyes.

Ollie grimaced, tearing his terrified eyes away from the alarming image of the girl suffering in his mind. The scream she gave off still resonated in his pounding eardrums. His shaking hands found their way to the top of his pounding head as he seized fistfuls of his black hair and tugged on them hard.

" _What_?" Sirius demanded, the first one to speak since Ollie had pulled himself out of his trance. "What was it? What did you see?"

Ollie breathed scattered, heavy breaths while his blue eyes looked towards the floor. She was…she was in pain and _hurting_. If they couldn't get to her fast, the girl was surely going to be Everett's next victim. The alarmed man blinked rapidly, trying desperately to rid his mind of his vision, sliding his hands down his face, clutching at a fistful of the material of his sweater.

He breathed in…out…in…out… but his exasperated lungs could simply not get in enough air to satisfy his lungs.

"Ollie?" Tonks's voice was close by and laced to the brim with concern and worry. Only when he felt the touch of a gentle hand upon his shoulder gingerly coaxing the man to lift his gaze and look at the owner did Ollie follow suit. He let out a low, pitiful moan as he looked towards Tonks, who was regarding him with such a concerned look of anguish and heartbreak he couldn't stand it.

"Hey…" Tonks's voice was low and softer than silk as Tonks gently cupped Ollie's chin in her firm hand and tilted it upward, forcing her best friend to meet his gaze. "Ol, tell me what happened. What did you see? Is it…Renee? I-is she…?"

Her voice cracked and trailed off as the nervous man's deep blue eyes met her pale grey irises. His shimmering orbs were filled with a sickening sense of dismay and dread. Tonks didn't think she could stand it anymore. She had to know the truth.

"What _happened_ , Ollie? Tell us. _Please_ ," Tonks urged, close to tears, as his arms came up to grip both of her shoulders.

His wide, glazed eyes blinked rapidly as if the man were processing Tonks's words. Ollie was looking more than a little shocked by Tonks's calm reaction, as though he'd expected his best friend to lose composure. His breath hitched as he brought his arms down, but of course, his hands quickly found their way to his hair as he tugged on a strand out of a nervous habit, she noticed.

He was too nervous to eye the others for long. His eyes darted from Tonks, then to Lupin and Mad-Eye, before finally settling on Sirius, whose face had gone pale in anger and shock as he waited for Ollie to answer.

When Ollie did finally speak, his gaze was unabashed and unwavering, and the man never tore his blue eyes away from Sirius.

"I know where she is."


	34. Chapter 34

_Time is like water_.

She'd never understood that phrase growing up that her mum used to spout at her before Billy came along, but now she did. She'd never understood how it could be so, but now it felt as though time itself had become frozen, like what she was experiencing now was little more than a ripple.

Renee's little unplanned escape attempt at getting away from Everett's clutches turned into an incredibly short one as she reached the top step of the cellar and flung herself through the door, wishing she too possessed magic as Sirius and Lupin and Tonks did, she'd magic herself the hell out of here and far away from this _creep_.

She felt the wire trip around her ankle, but Renee was able to fall forward, slamming down onto the hard linoleum kitchen floor just as a horrible-looking sharp blade fell from the ceiling, wedging itself firm and deep into the door.

Renee bit down hard on her bottom lip to stifle the scream that threatened to escape, her mouth wide open in shock, heart-pounding relentlessly against its cage of bone and cartilage, terrified at how bloody close she had come to death, and a gory, bloody one at that.

 _Was this how Billy met his end_? She thought, feeling hot tears mar and sting the edges of her vision, before Renee angrily shook her head and flicked away the single stray tear that escaped from her lid and rolled down her cheek, not wanting to let her emotions get the better of her.

She couldn't afford to lose her cool. Not now. Steeling herself, Renee exhaled a shaking breath as she began untangling herself from the wire she'd accidentally tripped and heaved herself off the ground, propelling herself forward while she looked for a way out of this haunted house or at least a place to hide from Everett in the hopes it would buy her enough time for someone— _anyone_ at this point, it didn't matter who—to come looking for and save her from her demise.

Renee forced her breathing to come to almost a standstill as the young blonde Muggle forced herself to go slow, considering she'd just tripped over a stupid wire that had almost killed her, she wasn't eager to repeat that little experience, or she'd be seeing Billy a lot sooner than she thought.

She did her best to examine the darkened house by her feet and as well as occasionally bringing her head up as she moved stealthily through the old creaking house that Renee swore was… _talking_ to her. Groaning.

 _Oh my God, what if this house is alive?! Can wizards and witches do that? Enchant houses_? _Did it eat me, this house? Is that what this is? Am I trapped in here with him forever_?!

Her thoughts were a whirling dervish of a horrible panic that threatened to consume her wholly.

She knew she couldn't afford delays. Renee immediately shirked away from the back door of the house the moment she saw a large butcher knife that hung above it, swallowing hard, hoping he hadn't enchanted the intimidating-looking knife to fly straight at her or something of its own accord the moment she stepped forward. Determining it was way too risky, she decided to search for a side door, or even the door that led to the garage.

 _Maybe even wizards drive a car_ , she thought, hoping her mind would continue to allow her to think rationally as she struggled to fight back the worst of her panic. _Hell, for all I know, they make them fly_. Renee froze as she heard the basement door open, the door itself giving a barely audible creak, and her poor heart thudded loudly in her chest, threatening to burst out of her chest completely if she couldn't get a grip on herself.

Renee wasn't sure if she'd ever been so frightened in her entire life up until this point.

It was a feeling she didn't think she could explain away, no matter how hard she tried, even if Everett himself was to put his stupid wand to her throat and demand an explanation.

Well, then he'd just have to kill her because she _couldn't_. _He's going to do that anyway if I don't get a move on_ , she told herself, panicked.

Renee gritted her teeth, wishing she'd thought to find some kind of a weapon. A cricket bat, something, an iron rod, to defend herself with.

You always find a weapon first, in those damn movies that Billy loved so goddamn much, she scolded herself. How many bloody times had Renee practically shouted herself hoarse while screaming bloody murder at the dumb blonde women that didn't think to grab a knife or an ax or something when the killer was chasing her?

And now, _she_ was a dumb blonde bimbo doing the exact same thing she swore she'd never do!

"Damn it," she whispered through her clenched teeth, beads of sweat perspiring and dripping down the fronts and sides of her temples the moment she heard Everett's heavy thudding of his black damn work boots.

Thoughts of what the man might do to her when he finally caught her began to swarm her mind.

Would he kill her? Torture her for information? Would she be used as bait to get to Sirius and Lupin and Tonks? A shudder went down her back at that thought, thinking she would have to do whatever it took to not squeal.

She had to keep Sirius and her friends safe. No matter what.

Even if…even if it meant her own life. She shuddered at the very idea of sacrificing herself for her friends' freedom, their very lives, but Renee Barreau was no bloody damn coward.

What sort of sick _nutjob_ was capable of the things that Everett had done to those poor folks?

Though before Barreau could so much as make a beeline for the closed door that she hoped led out to the garage, and more importantly, to her freedom, she froze and halted in her movements the moment Renee saw a dark, looming figure at the end of the hall.

She blinked owlishly, too stunned to process how the hell he'd gotten from one end of the house to the other when she'd left him in the cellar, before she had to remind herself that her regular patron to the Broken Spoon Café was a wizard and he'd probably used his magic, then.

Now she knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell she was going to get out of this. Not without a miracle. Everett stood there, still as a statue, unmoved and not speaking.

Renee stared, open-mouthed and gawking at him, at his shoulders that were broad and strong, the man heaving to catch his breath slightly at probably having bolted up all those stairs.

 _Magic, you git_ , she reminded herself meanly. _He used his magic to get up here so damn fast, and now you're going to suffer_.

His head was cocked to one side, and her heart lurched within the confines of her chest the moment she saw Everett take a step forward.

 _Oh, God…_ It was a truly terrifying sight to behold. And as she saw the sharp point of his wand in combination with his hulking, looming body, glinting eyes, and truly deadpan, listless stare, no emotion in his burning green eyes, Renee knew she had to try to reach the man.

If she _didn't_ , she'd be dead anyway no matter what stupid escape stunt she decided to pull off.

Renee took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she lifted her head towards the ceiling, shooting a silent prayer to God, for a brief, inappropriate moment wondered if all these witches and wizards of the world had some deity they prayed to.

 _Maybe Merlin from the King Arthur stories? Would he have been real_?

The young blonde shook her head to clear it, and then pounced in Everett's direction, throwing herself forward. If she were going to bloody die tonight, she might as well try to kick the crap out of this jerk in the process, prevent him from taking innocent kids like her brother off the streets of London if she could help it.

Everett reacted and copied her movements, but a half-second after her that moved by so fast, she barely had time to blink, much less for her mind to process just what the hell happened.

Renee grunted and gritted her teeth with the effort to crawl away from London's notorious and most wanted man the moment she felt his fingertips grazing the skirts of her black lace dress, and it was that moment that she cursed herself for choosing her own kid brother's wake to wear a stupid black lace dress.

If she would have known she would have been _kidnapped_ and fighting for her life, she would have thought to wear a pair of pants and a blouse instead, but _no_.

She'd had to wear a stupid dress and was now paying the consequences for it.

" _Ngh—get—off—of—me_!" Renee shouted, screaming in agony as she tripped on something, likely Everett's foot as he kicked his leg out as she attempted to scramble on her hands and knees.

She looked down towards her right kneecap and immediately wished she hadn't, finding what looked horrifyingly like one of his knives lodged into one of her shins, and it hurt like hell.

Renee felt tears come to her eyes as she yelped in pain, reaching down for the blade's hilt with the effort to yank it out and try to stop the bleeding, but Everett was already looming over her, like the hulking black shadows that she knew him to be.

Renee screeched, feeling more like a banshee as she kicked out at Everett's burly chest with her unwounded leg. The heel of her foot landed squarely in the stones and the man fell to his knees, his shoulders hunched over as he shouted.

Renee had always seen it, in those countless stupid scary movies Billy had made her watch with him because he was too scared to watch them on his own, how the girls in those movies were able to do _amazing_ things in times of trouble, or that the adrenaline was able to propel your body to keep pushing forward when you were wounded or otherwise incapable of making yourself go, but she'd never truly understood what the human body was capable of until this exact moment.

Renee gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting down the warm acidic bile that rose in her throat, not wanting to look at what she was about to do, but she knew if she didn't try to pry the knife out of her knee, she was as good as dead anyway, and maybe, she stood a chance against Everett if she had a weapon with which to defend herself. Maybe.

A hell of a long shot, but there was no time to waste. Reaching down, Renee ripped at the knife embedded in her kneecap, horrified, and pained screams still leaving her moth as the blade grated against the bone and torn flesh and slid it out of her leg. If she weren't so bloody high on adrenaline as it pumped and surged through her veins, she might have otherwise thought it stupid how surprising the difficulty was in pulling an embedded blade from a body part actually was.

In those horror movies Billy loved so damn much, it always seemed so easy, but this seemed like it was lodged in there deep, permanently stuck in her body. But it finally wrenched free, and letting out a pained scream, she dropped it.

Renee propelled herself forward with as much strength as she could muster, limping through the damned spook house Everett had brought her to, breathing, heavy, gasping, ragged breaths, tears in her eyes as she desperately tried to find a way out.

The doors were out of the question, so Renee moved towards the stairs, but to do that, she had to go through the living room. She started to climb the stairs, when her vision hazed, blurring at the edges, and she heard a male voice that did not belong to anyone she recognized in her mind.

"… _To me… Come back to me… Barreau, can you hear me? Don't panic. You're all right. You're not insane. My name is Ollie, Ollie Brennan, a friend of Tonks. I'm an Auror at the Ministry alongside Tonks. I know you might not understand what that means. I'm a Dark Wizard catcher. We'll get him, don't worry, Miss Barreau. I'm a Legilimens. To put it in layman's terms, all that means is that I can read your mind. I know where you are now, thanks for passing along the living room, there was an old magazine that had the address on it, so I know where to find you, Barreau, and we're coming, but hide_. _I know you're scared, but I need you to try to stay calm, can you do that for me, Renee?"_

Renee let out a muffled whimper. "Wh— _what_?" she whispered, feeling her blue eyes widen in shock. Oh, _God_ , now they had wizards who could read your mind too and invade your privacy?!

Was there no end to their magic and limitations? Could they truly do anything they wanted, these wizards and witches? But before Renee could mull this over at the most inappropriate time possible, the man's smooth, melodious voice erupted in her mind, sounding like a burst of static when you'd turn on a radio or television before the message came through clear and resolute, and his voice sounded as though he were standing next to her.

The stranger's voice in her mind came again, this time more urgent and desperate.

 _He's coming. Hide. My wife is on her way, I hope. She—she's his brother. Tonks and Sirius and Remus are on their way, too, so am I, but right now, what I want, what I need, is for you not to panic and hide_. _Stay calm, find a place to hide, and wait._

If it were at all possible, Renee's tear-filled blue eyes widened even further at the revelation the monster who'd kidnapped had a sister—a _normal_ sister—and she felt hatred swell within her veins.

Renee quickly gave her head a violent shake as an abrupt bitterness settled in her stomach as she realized what she was doing to herself and to that poor woman whenever she arrived to hopefully put a stop to her brother's insane madness.

 _If_ the lady got here in time to try to calm Everett down. Everyone was someone's brother or sister, daughter or son, father or mother, and this man, sadly, was no exception to that rule.

The young blonde blinked to clear her mind and started to climb the stairs. She didn't have much time, she wondered if hiding like the stranger's voice in her mind had suggested was a remote possibility, if he would give up on looking for her.

But even as the thought flitted across her tormented mind, Renee knew that was bloody stupid as hell. Everett would find her, no matter what.

The man—this _wizard_ —had all the time in the world and it was only going to make his job easier, if not slightly more annoying, to play cat and mouse with her, and this little mouse was gravely wounded. The blood seeping from the gaping hole in her knee was telling enough, leaving a trail of sticky garish crimson in its wake.

Renee could not feel the pain in her leg, thank God, her leg had gone kind of numb, but she could feel the warmth of the blood oozing from her skin.

She'd never imagined putting on this damned black dress to wear to her own kid brother's wake, and this was how her already shit day would end.

Renee managed to hobble towards what looked to be an old office of some kind, making a beeline for the window, and finding it locked. She was unable to pry it open with how bad her hands shook.

She threw her head back and cried out in frustration, curling her hand into a fist, and smashing her trembling fist against the paned glass, what fat lot of good it did her. Renee turned, looking for something she could use to try to break the glass and escape out the window.

She lunged to grab a lamp that rested on a small nightstand next to an old rotten desk and hurled it at the window with as much strength as she could muster, but the moment the lamp contacted the window, a faint purple glow seemed to emit from the pane of glass and merely bounced off of it like the lamp was rubber-made or something.

She let out another shout of frustration and tried again, with the window not letting the lamp anywhere near it, for each time she tried, it glowed that faint purple hue and sent the lamp hurtling backward, where it hit the opposite wall.

Renee darted to pick it up again, readying herself for another attempt.

There had to be some kind of way to break this stupid spell, wasn't there? Though she halted in her efforts the moment she heard heavy footsteps in the hallway.

"Damn," she swore through gritted teeth. She knew she didn't have much time left or the strength in her to fight, considering how badly her leg was bleeding.

Renee swore she could almost feel the blood draining from her face. She moved instead to rummaging through the desk drawers, praying she could find something, even if it were nothing more than a pocketknife or a pen to defend herself with.

At least that, she could stab it into his trachea or his eye if Everett got close enough. Renee squeezed her eyes shut and thanked God Himself if the deity was even looking out for a worthless waste of space like her as she found what looked like a bowie knife tucked away in the top left drawer, hidden underneath an old stack of notecards.

" _Yes_!" she cried triumphantly. Renee had seen in God knew how many countless movies now, how when the victims in all those scary movies would decide to throw their knives at their attackers, it was as if they'd suddenly become expert marksmen in an instant.

She knew if she threw it, she was bloody done for, and her best hope of survival was to hang onto it, so she gripped it in her dominant left hand, holding it out in front of her defensively.

Everett lingered in the doorway, looking calm and composed, cool as a cucumber, and to say it frightened her was an understatement. When he spoke, the man's voice was unbelievably cold.

"Put it _down_ , Barreau," he murmured, the beginnings of a light little smirk tugging the corners of his mouth upward. "You won't do it."

As if to emphasize his point, he rapped his wooden wand held tightly in his hand against his thigh, causing Renee's gaze to drift downward. To her horror and furious rage, the man's smile widened. He…he was _enjoying_ this, the sick creep and pervert that he was!

Her eyes widened the moment his wand hand lifted, and he pointed the weapon squarely at her chest, and she took a faltering step backward, gritting her teeth at the throbbing pain in her bleeding leg. It was a bloody miracle this much adrenaline was coursing through her veins and she couldn't feel it at all.

She wondered if she might be able to get him to circle with her, like those duels she'd seen in the movies, and she'd be able to escape out the door when the moment was right, but Renee knew she didn't stand a chance to outrun him with her leg.

Renee could barely stand to put any weight at all on her left leg. It would give out beneath her immediately, and it was only then that the pain returned in full force, as the man had violently pelted her a harsh blow across her face.

She let out a pained gasp and shot out a hand, her knuckles bone white with the effort to steady herself as she clung to the wall behind her for support.

"S—stay away from me, Everett. Don't think about coming near me, man. I'll—I'll _kill_ you," she whispered hoarsely, feeling tears prick at the edges of her vision, her voice trembling.

If anything, Everett's smile widened, but it was cold and smug and victorious, thinking he'd won.

He took a step towards her, like a panther stalking its prey in the shadows, into the room, and shut the door behind him. He stood still, silently waiting and observing her in curiosity.

Her arms trembled and the knife she clutched tightly in her hands shook. Renee didn't know how much longer she could keep standing up like this, how her adrenaline could possibly win out, but she knew she couldn't dare to approach him.

She needed Everett to make the first move or she was most certainly dead and done for. "What the hell are you _waiting_ for? Come _get_ me, then," she said through gritted teeth, jabbing the knife she held in the air in front of her. "Come on, then, I'm right here!"

The man merely proceeded to smirk at her and tilted his head, his bright green eyes _glowing_.

Renee faltered in her courage, lowering the knife in her hand just slightly. That…wasn't good at all.

"Be a _man_ , _Pisscloak_ ," Renee snapped in a moment of unbridled anger, and the man's satisfied smirk dropped so abruptly, it made her stomach turn and give a painful little lurch. "Come for me."

Slowly, Everett took a somewhat cautious half-step towards her, and Renee automatically took a fumbling step backward in an attempt to retreat. Renee cringed.

She wasn't sure if she should try to keep goading him or not, in the hope that the creep would make a mistake in his anger, or if she should try to backtrack and think of something else.

 _No_ , she thought to herself, grinding her teeth. _You gotta play it safe or all in this, baby, and you need to make up your mind, and fast_.

Renee had no idea if goading Everett like this a smart move was or not, but it was the only thing she could think of, if it would cause the wizard to lose his concentration or if it would do the exact opposite of what she wanted and give him focus.

But still, trying to supplicate it seemed just as more of a risk, if not more, with an even bigger toll on her pride. Sirius and Tonks and the others were counting on her to stall long enough until help arrived, _if_ this guy's sister ever showed up.

He might still kill her either way, no matter what she tried, even if she cried and apologized and got down on her knees and begged for her pathetic life. If only she could find a way to get to the cops, maybe…maybe they could gun him down if she could just get to his wand in his hands and break it. Or if Tonks and the others arrived in time, then the other wizards could deal with this bastard.

"Big strong _man_ , aren't you? Scared of a _woman_?" she hissed as Everett stood towering over her, nearly snarling, his muscles trembling.

The Morning Killer's black shirt fit him tightly, but not snug and Renee could see the bloke had a solid, defined layer of pure, hard muscle under it.

There was no doubt in her mind he could overpower her fully. Renee didn't stand a chance.

She just needed a good, fast, deadly jab at the creep in the right spot before he could have a chance to get at her, and maybe she could get out.

 _Maybe_. Renee let out a squeal as he lunged and she jabbed at him with the bowie knife in her hands, though she couldn't tell if it contacted penetrating his skin or not as the pair of them tumbled to the hardwood floor that was steadily turning garish crimson with the blood that seeped from her wound. Renee needed to bandage it or there was a possibility she could die from blood loss, or a minimum, lose her right leg entirely.

The weight of him pressed against her practically threatened to crush her, and an agonizing pain shot through her shin. Her injury hadn't been that deep, thank God, but the bone had definitely been compromised, and despite Renee's best efforts to contain her heart-wrenching wail of pain, she couldn't do it.

His hand went to cover her mouth, but his broad, calloused hand closed over her mouth and part of her nose as well, cutting off any chance Barreau might have had of getting in fresh oxygen to her poor panicking and burning lungs.

Tears left her lids and poured relentlessly down her cheeks as she basked in her utter failure. Again. First, it was Billy, now she couldn't even manage to save herself. Her leg hurt more than Renee thought was possible, beyond her brain's ability to cope with such horrible, burning pain.

Renee continued to pound against Everett as she fought against the man, but it did her no good at all.

The moment she felt his knee rub between her thighs, Renee had a horrifying moment of clarity and realization as she felt this creep press himself even harder against her that because she had insulted him and told Everett he wasn't a man, that the Morning Killer was going to show her that he was a man. But he made no move at all.

His hand remained closed over her face, almost smothering her to death, and her mind and vision began to turn foggy and her lungs continued burning and screaming for oxygen to return to her. She was sure she was going to die.

This was it.

Renee knew she'd be seeing Billy again soon. She could only pray that the next time she saw her brother again, that billy would forgive her for failing him so hard as a sister, and now he was dead, because of her.

One of the last emotions that Renee felt before her vision started to leave her was a horrible, cold, unending shame.


	35. Chapter 35

When Renee woke up, she let out a muffled grunt as she tried to move her arms and found herself unable to.

As she blinked once, twice, to rid herself of the crusted mess that had accumulated on her lids while she'd been knocked unconscious, she became vaguely aware she was not in the dark and felt the fabric of a black burlap sack that covered her face against her skin to prevent her from seeing where she was. It took a few seconds for the fog of confusion Renee found herself in to dissipate. There was always fear, no matter what.

She glanced down, her eyes widening in shock as she realized the precariousness of her predicament. Everett had hogtied her to a chair. It was only when she attempted to free her legs with more force than was perhaps wise that there was a horrible, blinding pain in her bleeding right leg.

Renee winced, letting out a pained cry as slick tears started to slip on their own accord from her eyelids, but once she struggled wriggling to break free against her restraints, the pain slowly faded.

She was smart enough not to call for help, knowing that no one could bloody hear her, and surely, no one was coming to save her, so Renee reluctantly remained silent. As she tried to wriggle free of the rope that dug into her skin, Renee remembered Everett, committing every detail of his body and his face to memory as best she could.

Large, tall, broad-shouldered. Listless, cold dead green eyes, and a cruel smile devoid of emotions.

Because she was alive right now, that didn't necessarily mean the young Muggle woman didn't fear that Everett would eventually kill her, just as he'd done all the other victims, but it definitely suggested to the blonde there were…other things this psychotic creep wanted to do to her before he was tired of her, lost interest, and disposed of Renee.

The way he'd sniffed her hair flitted through her mind, the way he'd slowly, deliberately cut a few of the top buttons off her black lace dress, one at a time, made it clear to her what his intentions were, though the fact he'd set up those goddamned traps filled the young Muggle woman to the brim with fear that perhaps the man wanted to torture her, and that was how the creep got his rocks off.

She could only pray to God if He were even listening to a pathetic human being like herself that did not deserve absolution or salvation when her time came if it did come to that, that Renee would be strong enough to hold onto her dignity. She doubted it, but she hoped.

What Renee Barreau had thought was a healthy dose of fear only amplified and became ten times worse when she heard the sound of a heavy door creaking shut merely a few feet to her immediate left. Her stomach lurched, and a chill ran through Renee's body as her body erupted into a sweat.

Her body started to tremble as the fear that rocked her to her core, and not in a good way, was literally sickening. It was so bad, Renee swore she felt her face drain of color as it paled as the blood left her cheeks and turned an interesting shade of green.

The door didn't bang shut, but it shut rather with a loud thud that startled Barreau, causing Renee to jump slightly, straining her ears to listen for more sounds, any clue or hint as to where it had come from, where Everett was.

Her throat hurt as she considered whether or not she should say something to her brother's killer.

What would she say? Should she beg him? Scream obscenities at him? Spit in his face for murdering the only family she had left? Or should she simply stay quiet and take whatever it was that she was about to get?

Maybe talking would do her some good. Maybe he might take pity on her. But would a man capable of the things she'd seen Everett do really just…give up, set her _free_? Was it not better to hold on to at least some dignity, then? The questions raced through Renee's mind at an uncontrollable speed and by the time she heard movement on the other side of whatever room Everett had brought her to now, her lips were parted, ready to speak, but nothing came out.

It wasn't until she felt his calloused hand-wind itself around her leg that Renee felt herself cry out, and her entire body jerked in a violent spasm to the right in an effort to get away from him, to not let Everett lay a finger on her.

More violent, white-hot pain coursed through her veins, and Renee bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard to stifle her agonizing scream that the metallic tang and taste of blood filled her mouth. As she forced herself to try to breathe slowly through her flaring nostrils, she could feel Everett's hands working swiftly and expertly to wrap or bandage her leg where his knife had more or less impaled her, though whether or not she'd truly fallen on it by accident, or if Everett had enchanted the stupid weapon to fly automatically into her leg with that wand of his, was a mystery.

The fact that he was choosing to bandage her wound instead of outright killing her where she sat hogtied to this wooden chair gave her an eerie sense of hope that felt more like a cold chill down her spine. Why would he tend to her wound if he didn't at least plan on keeping her alive?!

" _Please_ , Everett," she begged, hearing the hushed, choking, whispered words leave her lips before she could even make the decision to utter them. "D—don't hurt me. Please don't do this."

His hand, which had been in the midst of gently pressing to the skin with slightly more force than was perhaps necessary, became still and halted in his movements. He moved his hand away, and Renee's heart threatened to burst from her chest, so hard that it literally heart, and she could hear the pounding of the blood roaring in her ears.

There was a pause, and a muffled squeak of terror and surprise left Renee's lips as the bag moved around her head before being lifted off her. Renee squeezed her eyes shut, it was taking her a couple of moments to adjust to the burning white light emanating from the tip of his wand suddenly being thrust into her face, but when her lids slowly fluttered open and looked up into her captor's face, his eyes were once more, listless.

Everett frowned as he stared down at his captive. Barreau was beginning to be something of a problem for him, and this was firmly rooted in his mind the moment he saw the girl injure herself.

He was beginning to suspect he'd made the right decision by choosing to take this one instead of Mrs. Lupin, that Auror, that stupid little _bitch_. Wide, bright shining blue eyes the color of a robin's egg stared back up at him, a hint of fear in those pale blue irises of hers as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

Just the smallest admission of fear. Everett smirked. _Good_. It was going to have to be enough. With her hands wrenched behind her back and bound together by a rope, the blonde looked utterly defenseless.

In a strange way, Everett felt excited if he were honest with himself. This one was special. Different. Not like the other prizes he'd caught in times past. She wasn't afraid of him, or if Barreau was, the blonde was damn good at hiding her fear from him. A challenge. That's what Muggle Renee Barreau was to him, a challenge.

And Everett had always liked a good challenge. Just knowing he could do whatever he wanted to this young woman who was completely at his whims and mercy made the man feel powerful.

His heart pounded in his chest and his breathing rate increased as he realized he could do anything to her. He could kick her, break her bones one-by-one until she was screaming his name, begging for him to put her out of her misery, and yet, he found he didn't want to ruin the pretty girl's face.

And something churning in Everett's gut told him Barreau would take it if judging by the icy fire in her burning bright blue eyes was a sign.

This girl was brave, a strong one, not so easily intimidated. If she had been born a witch, there was no doubt in his mind, she'd have been a Gryffindor. As Everett stared down his slender nose at the girl who'd been nothing but a thorn in his side ever since she'd offered him that cup of water in Azkaban Prison, he could see the blonde was trying hard not to cry, blinking back tears, every once in a while, a muffled half-choked sob would escape her lips, but she was also trying to be subtle in her movements as she shirked away from Everett's soft, surprisingly tender touch.

"Does it bother you?" he asked softly, feeling his voice lower an octave and go quieter than usual.

Which was surprising to him. In times past, Everett had usually only used this tone on Norah.

He was rewarded with a withering stare. "Welcome, Renee," he murmured in what he hoped was a polite, courteous tone, throwing out his arms as if he had merely invited her for tea. "Do you like it?" he asked politely. "It isn't much to boast of, this house, but growing up…this place was a paradise for me. My _sister_ , not so much."

"S…sister?" Renee grunted, struggling to move, and still finding she couldn't. She felt like the damn bedroom was slowly suffocating the air out of her, the air pressing down hard, as if she were drowning, and robbing the air from her lungs, and not able to do a damn thing about it.

Renee thought briefly, maybe it would be better if she just drowned. But she had Sirius and Lupin and Tonks to think of, and the man's voice inside her head had told her to stall him long enough, that help was coming for her, just to hang on a while longer.

"Wh—why are you _doing_ this?" Renee managed to gasp out in a hoarse croak, careful to keep her voice neutral and eyes level, resisting with every ounce of strength she had left not to look away.

The Morning Killer noticed Renee looking and almost smiled at her, the smile not quite reaching his green eyes, so… _lonely_. Was that even the right word for the foreign emotion she thought she saw flitting through the man's empty green eyes?

"I've been…itching to share a dialogue with you, Barreau, for quite some time now, little dove. I've been watching you, ever since Azkaban Prison."

" _Why_?" she pleaded in a half-choked sob, swallowing down hard past a lump in her throat.

Everett let out a low warning growl from deep within his chest. "Because I _can_ , Barreau. That's why. Your precious _Sirius Black_ ," Here, he spat the other wizard's name as though it were poison that had settled and lingered upon his tongue, "only wants one thing from you, girl, but you already know that of the man, don't you, little dove," he hissed. "It disgusts me, it really truly does. _All_ of you," he snarled as he gnashed his teeth together in anger, " _you_ , _Black_ , the wretched werewolf and his _mate_ , know _nothing_ of _real_ love. Not like _I_ do. Like I did for Helen. My son. My…my _sister_ ," he hissed.

Renee let out a muffled whimper as she continued to squirm against her restraints, though it did her no good, as hogtied and bound so tightly to her chair as she was. The young blonde visibly flinched as she watched the man restlessly paced the bedroom floor, all the while lovingly twirling his wand in between his hands.

The man noticed her looking and smiled again, catching Renee completely off-guard. His smile was…almost genuine, and how dare she even consider this next part? _Kind_. _Sweet_.

Renee's bright blue eyes widened, and she angrily shook her head to clear it.

 _Don't fall for this, baby. Talk your way out of this until help gets here, damn it_!

"Sirius. Wh—where is he? I—whatever you're going to do to me, _Pisscloak_ , then get it over with, I've always hated waiting, but I want to speak with him. I want to know he's all right first," she hissed.

Her fear was manifesting itself in the form of anger, Renee recognized this, and she was quick to realize if she couldn't watch her mouth, then whatever she said might well be her last statement, and she'd have died for nothing, then.

The surprising amount of tenderness in the blonde woman's voice gave the Morning Killer pause. His hand not curled around his wand clenched into a fist hard enough to pierce the skin of his palms and cause his hands to start bleeding.

It took Everett a moment to realize it was rage. The way Barreau spoke Black's name with such a graceful gentleness, dare he even think for a minute that it was love, true love like Norah had always prattled on about finding for herself one day, made his blood boil and course through him.

Never before did a man's name sound like a _curse_.

The young Muggle restaurant owner had cried Black's name which such anguish that Everett felt his blood boil and the fingers of his wand hand gave a spasmodic little twitch as he itched to point his wand at the bitch and make her suffer for it, to never utter his name again in his presence if Barreau valued keeping her tongue.

But then the girl said his name again, even softer, and that was the breaking point of Everett's patience.

At that moment, the man seethed and gnashed his teeth together, jaw locked. The Morning Killer was blinded by his rage as he reached out. When his palm came into contact with the right, bruised side of Renee's face, even he winced at the horrible, sharp cracking noise that resonated within his eardrums, pounding, and roaring with sound.

Her head whiplashed backward and hit against the headrest of the chair, though nowhere near hard enough to break her neck. Renee let out a soft whimper of pain, and this only fueled him.

Everett tried to shake the bitter aftertaste in his mouth, but much like the coffee Renee Barreau served in that cute little café of hers that she owned, its bitterness drove him to take another sip, knowing he would be more awake than before.

There was a fresh blackening bruise underneath her left eye already that would yellow as it aged, and eventually turn purple at the edges. The young woman kept her head tilted backward, too stunned and in pain to move, and for the briefest of moments, Everett was tempted to run his palms along the smooth column of her throat, to really feel the girl's skin, to see if it was as soft and unblemished as it looked in his mind.

He stifled an angered growl, resisting the urge. The Morning Killer grabbed the back of her chair and tilted it backward, her blonde bangs falling out of her eyes as with one swift swipe of his thumb, he brushed them off her face. He smirked as she continued to fight her bindings, but she wasn't going to be getting out of those anytime.

He almost laughed at seeing the look of defiance in her blue eyes, but then what she did next set him on edge. She spat in his face. Red. All that filled his vision was crimson red.

Burning rage hissed through Everett's body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off Everett like ferocious waves.

The wrath consumed him entirely, engulfing his moralities and destroying the boundaries of loyalty. The Morning Killer could envision Renee bleeding for what she had just done.

 _Never_ had one of his little playthings spat in his face before. This was a first, one he could not allow going unpunished. Everett drew back his hand and backhanded her so hard across her pretty little face that even he flinched at the deafening crack. Not broken, no, but it would hurt for a while. He felt guilty, but he couldn't stop.

But still, he would not consider his work completed and finally able to rest until the campground was closed for good. So many places of bad memories. Everett knew he should put an end to all of this, just…find Norah, take his sister somewhere and go, apologize before he made it worse, but he just didn't have it within him to stop.

"S—Stop," came her plea desperately. He almost had to strain forward to hear her through her mumbling, her voice was so soft and quiet. Timid, even. Her tone was not fearful, and this gave him pause, so…he stopped.

Everett watched, curious, cocking his head to the side as the young woman turned her head sharply to the left and spat a mouthful of blood off to the side.

"You…don't…have to…do this…" she rasped weakly. "Th—there's still…time. Give this up. Turn yourself in, Everett. Y—you can…still change."

He said nothing, and, no longer wishing to stand, looked around the room until he found what he was looking for. Renee winced as the loud scraping of the wooden chair he dragged across the room rang in her ears. His face remained neutral and impassive as Everett turned the chair backward and straddled it in front of Renee, resting his chin in his hands as he regarded the young detective with an inquisitive expression as if she were an exotic animal in a zoo.

"I don't know what it was, Everett, th—that bent your life out of shape," the young woman began hesitantly, lifting her chin, jutting it out slightly defiantly so in order to look him in the eyes. "B—but maybe…I've been there too. Maybe I could help you. Rehabilitate you. You don't need to be alone. You…you don't have to kill anyone else, Everett," her voice came out as barely a whisper. "Let me…let us help you, Everett. We can…we can fix you. Get you _help_."

Everett froze, considering her words. "I'm sorry." His voice was solemn, with no hint of malice or joking at all. "I'm sorry, but…no. It's too late for me," he spat, sounding disgusted with himself. "I'm trying. But I can't feel a thing, Barreau," he growled. The Morning Killer regarded Renee in silence for a moment.

She really was quite a pretty little thing. He almost hated to ruin her face in a moment. _Almost_.

"Everett…please don't do this…" Renee startled as she heard a muffled yelp from somewhere down below the house. _Oh, thank God_ , she thought wildly and swallowed hard to quell the lump in her throat. Her throat felt incredibly dry and scratchy, and she wanted nothing more than a drink of water. "Wh…t—think about Norah. She—she wouldn't want this for you, would she?"

" _You_ don't get to talk about _my_ sister," growled Everett angrily, jabbing a finger in her chest and poking her hard. "Leave my sister out of this. You really want to know how it feels, huh?"

Renee nodded mutely. Anything to stall him, keep him talking. Maybe…just maybe then…help would arrive, and they could all get out of there.

"I do. Tell me, Everett…" If she kept him conversing like this, maybe whatever this new stranger was doing down there would save her life if they got here in time.

Everett frowned. "Well, it's like…when you go underwater, and you close your eyes. Everything in the world suddenly ceases to exist somehow. The only thing you hear is the beating of your heart and the thoughts on your mind, and if you don't reach the surface, you start to feel your lungs craving for oxygen, burning because you can't breathe," Everett growled, and Renee gulped nervously as she saw the briefest flickers of pure, unadulterated rage pass through his eyes.

Renee watched as his lethal stare felt painful and piercing as if his glare were tearing her heart apart. She looked down at her lap and rested her handcuffed hands on her thighs. Blood. Her _own_. She looked up at him again, this time, with widened eyes. A final glance at his furious eyes confirmed her possible outcome.

Eventually, Everett would kill her. The young woman watched as the serial killer's eyes misted over as if he were remembering something. Whether that memory was unpleasant or a happy one, Renee could not tell at all.

Everett let out a low, guttural growl from the back of his throat. "That's how I feel about everything lately," he said in a quiet voice. "I can only hear the echoes of past voices in my mind. Sometimes…it's hard for me to breathe, but the rest of the world doesn't matter. Nothing matters right now except for finding my sister. I heard my little sister is… _coming_ _home_ ," Here, he smirked, and the emptiness in the man's eyes made Renee shiver. "I just feel the beating of my own heart. Nothing less, nothing more. The world never gave a damn about people like her and I, so why should I?"

Everett heaved a heavy sigh, feeling around in the pockets of his black and red plaid shirt until he found a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He clamped one between his teeth, and Renee noticed his hands seemed a little uncoordinated and kind of fumbling.

"Your little boyfriend's like an overbearing bastard, right?" Everett finally spoke up, seemingly interested in making conversation with his captive. Renee frowned. "No," he growled, jerking his head down towards the stairwell below. "Not _that_ one. The _other_ one. The lawyer that I _killed_. John was his name, yes?"

Renee swallowed. To that, she didn't know what to say, so she thought silence was best. Was it Sirius? Whoever it was, they were moving, she could hear the soft, delicate footsteps. For a moment, a spark of hope ignited in her chest. Everett merely grunted in response.

"My life would be a lot better off if I weren't…here. Like _this_ ," he growled, gesturing with his finger towards the scar that snaked its way across his brow bone and ended at the curve of his lip, twisting the edges of his mouth into a permanent grimace which gave him a truly terrifying look, but…but…

Renee sensed there was more to Everett than he let on, and if she could just continue to have a dialogue with him, then maybe there would be no need for the night to end in bloodshed.

The young blonde flinched as she felt his hand drift downward, where it rested on her thigh as he scooted his chair that little bit closer. Everett noticed her look of trepidation and his lips curled into a taunting sneer.

"Run, run, _run_ …that's _all_ you ever do. You haven't changed anything yet, Miss Barreau," he explained, feeling his voice go dangerously low and quiet. "You haven't saved any of them, Renee, and you won't. What's done is done…"

"That's not _true_!" Renee shouted, feeling the beginnings of a fear prick at her heart as she felt his hand move with surprising tenderness up her thigh.

She flinched, not wanting to show this man just how much he was getting to her and feeling like she was doing a bad job of, because he noticed and his lip twisted upward into a mischievous smirk, his green eyes twinkling in a playful way.

"Ah," he said casually, biting his bottom lip in almost a playful way as his fingertips grazed the column of her throat. "You. You're trying to remember your parents' advice, aren't you, dove?" he mocked. "What's the regulation to cover _this_?" he taunted, settling his hand around Renee's pale throat. He glanced down at her thighs and regarded her torn, blood-stained black lace dress. "Hmm? See what your little boyfriend has _done_ to you? He has made you a _mess_ , Renee," he sighed, almost sounding…disappointed.

"Can't say this is my first time being tied to a chair," Renee snapped hotly, feeling her fear manifest as anger. "Though John never… never did that," she whispered, feeling her shoulders slump as she thought of John, hoping, and sending a silent prayer to whoever was up there that John if Everett had killed him as he said he did, was at peace. "Let _go_ of me, Everett, you piece of shit," she snapped.

"His loss," Everett answered simply, reaching up a strong hand and toying with a lock of her hair. "All the physical stuff…so dull," he drawled, now sounding bored. "So…old-fashioned." The Morning Killer glanced down at Renee's knees and then to her restraints. "Your knees must be killing you," he admonished, feigning concern for the state of her well-being.

"Everett," begged Renee, and she hated the weakness that was laced throughout her voice. She swallowed as Everett drew closer, having resumed picking up the dagger he'd left on the side table, along with another set of instruments she couldn't and didn't even want to identify.

 _Whoever the hell is downstairs, whatever you're doing, please hurry the hell up_ , she thought wildly, doing her best to control the panicked look that she was certain was present in her blue orbs.

"Y—you don't have to do this, Everett. You could take Norah a—and leave, i—if that's what you really want. Right now. I swear it. I—I won't tell anyone you were here. Y—you could…I'll say we were mugged and brought here by a couple of guys."

At her desperate plea, Everett threw back his head and let out a short, bark-like laugh, and regarded Renee, seeming almost amused with her attempts to reason with him.

Everett resumed his seat in front of Renee, continuing to sit in that way of straddling the chair backward, twirling the knife in his hands, admiring the sheen of the silver in the dim light, courtesy of the moon that streamed in through the window. He let out a bitter laugh as he shoved Renee's chair painfully back against the wall.

" _No_. It's too late for me. I'm far too gone. I've killed people. I'm an angry, bitter, violent man. I know what I am…I can't go back from that, no matter what Norah says. If there's one thing our father got right…there's no hope left for someone like _me_." The self-loathing in his tone was evident.

Renee felt her mind quickly going into overdrive to put the missing pieces together.

"Yes, you can," Renee rasped out hoarsely, reaching up with her cuffed hands as she felt Everett's grip around the column of her throat tighten slightly. "Everett, yes, you _can_ go back. I—if London, if these places are too painful, take your sister somewhere and just get out of Great Britain for good. You can leave and have your own life. Find someone. G—get married, have kids who treat you well. Put all this behind you a—and start over," she whispered breathlessly, hardly daring to believe the words that felt like they were tumbling out of her mouth, her tongue no longer listening to her brain.

Everett laughed and tightened his grip around Renee's throat, ignoring her desperate clawing at his hands as she struggled to pry his hands off her.

" _You_ of all people shouldn't suggest to me that I _ever_ have kids. I already had one. He's dead," he snapped meanly. "Thanks to that pink-haired _bitch_ you're friends with, sweetheart. You're one to talk, Miss Barreau. You can't even keep a boyfriend, so what makes someone like you think you'll _ever_ have kids, huh? Don't you dare lecture me about what you think _I_ should do," he snarled, leaning in so the tip of his nose practically was touching hers. "What woman would ever want _this_?" he snarled, and she drew in a sharp breath that pained her screaming lungs and ribcage as he rolled up the sleeve of his plaid shirt, his arm littered with dozens of angry scars, thick, red, and white jagged lines, and several burn marks, fixing Renee with a cold stare, almost emotionless. "Hmm?" he growled. "You know any volunteers? Certainly, isn't going to be _you_. Just looking at you makes me want to punch you and beat your little body within an inch of your pathetic life. Why you? You're nothing _special_ , kid," Everett growled, squeezing his hand even tighter around Renee's throat. "It's _sick_. You're playing Black with no regard to his feelings. Just as Norah did once, when she…used to date when she was old enough. Though I hear she met someone, married him, we'll see how well he fares against me," he hissed. "I knew I was right to take you. Black will be better off without a sniveling little girl. _Free_. Women like you test men's baser instincts and inflame them."

"And your _sister_ , Everett? What 'baser instinct' does she ignite in you, you _bastard_?" snapped Renee hotly, immediately clenching her eyes shut and braced herself for another blow, but it didn't come.

Damn her and her temper. It was going to be her undoing one of these days, she just knew it.

It was why she always had so many disagreements. She would lash out in anger and say things that she didn't mean, though, by the time she had, it was too late to take them back.

"She's different." It did not escape Renee's attention how whenever Everett said Norah's name, something in his eyes sparked and softened, and his voice grew quiet, almost thoughtful in a way.

Though there was that other part of Everett that almost sounded possessive when he spoke of Norah, and the mention of her dating others seemed to light a fire in him that Renee wasn't quite sure what to make of just yet.

Renee furrowed her brow into a frown as she thought of Everett's possessiveness and protectiveness.

 _Could he...really love her in...that way?_ Renee wondered, and then immediately violently shook her head to clear her mind of such thoughts. _No! No, that's stupid! Get it together, Barreau, he's not THAT much of a creep, is he? Everett wouldn't do that to his own sister...would he?_

She liked to believe he wouldn't but given the erratic way he was behaving and his violent mood swings that seemed to have no states of gray-scale, Renee decided she couldn't rule it out, as much as _that_ little pleasant thought made her stomach churn and the bile rise to the back of her throat.

"Weak women like you and Auror Tonks just piss me off. But you deserve to be hurt just as much as the others," he hissed angrily. "Maybe more since the world keeps giving you a pass. No second chances here, Miss Barreau," he growled, squeezing his hand even tighter around Renee's throat. "Norah, she's the only one who really understands me. What I am. What _we_ are."

The young woman let out a frightened little gasp as she grabbed her fingers around Everett's burly arm. The man was close to choking the life force out of her by this point. Renee would have let out a cry if she were able to breathe.

Instead, she opened her mouth and only managed a tiny, strangled, choking noise as tears began to stream down her cheeks. Her ribs ached and hurt horribly from where Everett had hit her, but her lungs screamed and burned for relief even more.

She couldn't breathe. Her vision was growing gray at the edges. Letting out a tiny whimper, Renee felt her eyes clench shut as she tugged desperately at Everett's plaid shirt sleeve, wincing as the harsh cold metal of her handcuffs dug into the tender skin of her inner wrists. She couldn't get enough air into her lungs.

She squirmed underneath Everett's weight, trying anything she could think of to get the older man away from her.

If Everett didn't let go soon…then Renee was going to pass out and Everett could actually kill her, intentional or not. Everett's eyes narrowed as he glowered at Renee until they nothing but slits.

It was unnerving to see the head of a snake glaring at her on a human body.

"P…please, Everett…." She struggled to draw in a breath, but his hold on her throat didn't relinquish or even loosen. Black mists swirled, ebbing, and flowing at the forefront of her vision.

He shrugged. "Maybe it's wrong. I know I'm an evil piece of trash, I know. I saw you tonight, and I wanted all of you to suffer. People _care_ about you. You're a cute woman, I'll give you that," he admitted, almost begrudgingly so, as he didn't want to confess it to the very detective he was about to strangle to death. "You're beautiful, and you know it, don't you, Renee? Of course, you do. How could you not?" he whisper-hissed through gritted teeth.

Renee's gaze drifted down to see his knuckles were white with the effort to steady himself, perhaps to prevent himself from lashing out at her in anger again.

"See?" he grunted, the corners of his mouth twisting into an unkind sneer as Renee shot him a dark look. "There's that look again. You're getting to be quite good at this, you know," he sighed, continuing the absentminded twirling of his dagger in his hands, as though bored with the turn their conversation had taken. "You're innocent. _Weak_. _Pathetic_."

Everett shook his head in disgust as he stared down his slender nose at her bitterly, his hulking football player build towering over her as he rose from his chair, lifting Renee off her feet slightly, his grip upon her throat tightening even harder. The color had rapidly drained from Renee's face, and there was no mistaking the fear in her blue eyes now.

"Nobody gives a damn if _I_ get hurt. Nobody cares what happens to _me_ ," Everett growled, finally loosening his ironclad grip on Renee's neck, just enough for her to draw in a gasping, choking, wheezing breath, and let out a cry.

Renee couldn't even manage to formulate words in her head that she wanted to speak as she sucked in shaking, deep lungful's of air that pained her lungs, coughing as she gasped for air that simply wasn't there. She barely even recognized the sound of her own pathetic cries, and she couldn't get herself to stop.

She just wanted all this to end, for the killings to stop. Everett cocked his head to the side and regarded Renee in silence, waiting for her violent coughing spell to stop. Renee reached up a trembling hand to her throat, as well as she could give that she was restrained by handcuffs and the ropes wound tightly around her stomach.

She winced as she touched the area of her neck where Everett's hand had gripped it tight, and she knew it was going to leave marks she didn't want. "Your...sister...probably...does...care...Everett... please don't. Let me go, _please_ …"

But Everett ignored her plea, continuing that infuriating behavior of running his hand up and along her thigh.

"Did your parents ever hit you growing up?" The question was out of Everett's mouth before he could stop himself, and he knew, judging by that horrified look on the young woman's face that he already knew the answer.

He pulled up his chair closer to her and looked at her closer. Everett scoffed and rolled his eyes. "No. Of course, they didn't. But _ours_ did," he breathed, his one good eye narrowing, and a flicker of dark rage passed through his eyes. "I bet your father hugged you every night. He probably hugs you."

Everett grabbed Renee's chin, cupping it in his strong hand, and turned her face back towards him, slapping his other hand teasingly against Renee's forehead.

"I just can't relate to that, I'm afraid, dear thing," he sighed, almost sounding remorseful. "Your father wouldn't do the things that _my_ dad did to us growing up. Maybe he loves you _too_ much. That's a fine line to cross, you know, Miss Barreau. But our father did. To Norah. It's hard to tell what that line is when you're just a little kid, but even back then, I knew what he did to us was wrong. Our dad was a bastard," he growled, and there was that familiar fire-spark of anger in his eyes, and his head swiveled almost lazily to the left to regard Renee.

Renee had nothing to say to that.

"Did your father ever tell you how…how _special_ you are? Rub his hands all over you in that way you thought was _love_ at first," Everett went on, his voice growing dangerously soft and quiet now, Renee would have had to lean forward in her chair in order to hear him, though she couldn't, given she was hogtied to the chair. "You're the perfect target for crap like that," Everett growled angrily. "It starts out innocent enough. Words of praise. Made Norah feel valid and important when _my_ words weren't simply _enough_ for her. Gentle hands, rubbing a little more than necessary, but harmless enough…until the day that it _isn't_. Then it escalated. The _creep_ started sneaking into her room at night and…what he did to Norah was unforgivable, so I…gutted him like the _monster_ that he is," he hissed, and he balled his hand into a fist.

Renee let out a hiss as she drew in a breath and flinched at the screaming fire burning in her ribcage, near her side from where he had punched her during his tantrum only mere moments ago.

Renee stared, feeling her mouth drop open slightly. She didn't know how to respond.

"I—I'm sorry," panted Renee, still heaving to catch her breath. "They—he shouldn't have. Your father was _wrong_ to do those things to you and Norah, Everett, b—but killing all these people…it won't change what happened to you. Stop this now, and you can still be saved. It's not too late…"

" **SHUT UP**!" bellowed Everett, the last of his patience leaving him at last and he lashed out at the wall behind Renee's head, his fist strong enough that it left a visible dent in the wood.

Renee let out a tiny squeak of terror and clenched her eyes shut tight.

This was it. Her end.

Everett let out a small growl and his hand drifted towards the back of Renee's skull, finding purchase in her thick red tresses. He yanked her hair back roughly, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Renee as he tugged.

She opened her mouth to say something else to him in a last-ditch effort to reach him, but a flash of yellow out of the corner of her eye and the tumble of movement had grabbed her attention. She sucked in a sharp breath and froze.

"Everett, _please_ ," begged Renee, feeling tears well in her eyes, stinging and burning in her vision. "Th—there's still time for you to change." She shirked away, as far back as her back would allow as he brought the tip of his wand and pressed it delicately, but firmly at her throat, just hard enough to enforce his intended message, what happened to her if she were to tell the cops what had happened here. "We can…we can still _save_ you," she breathed, and immediately she knew she had made a huge mistake. Renee watched, horrified, as Everett's face blanched and almost immediately drained of color and he Barreau back, looking as though Renee had slapped her.

" _There's nothing left of me to save_!" he roared, and that was when all hell broke loose, and he moved so fast his hand was a blur, his lips uttered a spell that she did not recognize.

The moment the incantation left his lips, Renee felt a white-hot searing pain explode behind her lids, and the scream tumbled unchecked from her lips before she could tamper it back down.

Fucking _why_? Why couldn't she have done more to help? She should have done more for Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, everyone who'd helped her out in this life. And in the end, she hadn't done anything.

Renee turned her head to the side to spit and was dismayed to spit out a mouthful of blood. "You...fucking...shit..." she could only gasp out, and even her string of vulgarity was an effort to spew at the man, though he merely smirked.

"I think I'll leave your body somewhere for Black to find. I _know_ they're coming. I can sense his power, feel his anger coursing through his veins."

Everett's voice, which sounded sickeningly excited at the horrible prospect of Black finding her lifeless corpse, seemed so far away. Everything was fading as black dots snaked their way into her vision.

All she'd wanted was to see Sirius again, to let the man be happy, to be loved, even if…even if it wasn't her, though she'd never gotten a chance to tell him that she liked him a lot, and she never wanted to hurt him. She never had the chance and lacked courage. Because she was a goddamned bloody coward, and now look?!

She should have told him, she should have—

There was a flash of what looked like red light, a spell uttered from Everett's thin, wormy lips that Renee couldn't make sense of, and then a cloud of white pain erupted again from behind her lids, blinding her.

She screamed until she was hoarse. As the darkness surged towards her again, Renee hoped that it would engulf her completely, and she would cease to exist, to save Black the torment from seeing her alive and in such a horrible state.

And she would see her brother again. _I'm so sorry_ …

Renee allowed herself to relax into the void. She prayed it would end her sorrow, she wanted no more of this hellish existence where all she succeeded in doing was bringing more suffering and pain to everyone around her.

And all she wanted now was to spend the rest of what little time she did have, _if_ she survived this, with the memory of the one who'd abandoned her.

She could forgive Sirius for what he'd done, though she would never again look on him with the same tenderness and love that she _thought_ she had felt at the time.

Everett had _taken_ that from her. The thought was more than she could bear. Renee felt as though the darkness were closing in around her, pulling her under its currents. She had already fought so hard.

Part of her wanted to let go, to fall back under the calming abyss of nothing as blood seeped from a wound in her side. She wanted to be washed away, but even as her mind and body begged for relief, Renee knew she couldn't give up, she wanted to see him again.

Needed it. The memory of Sirius's face and the others was all she had left now to hang onto, then.

She swore she heard Billy's voice speaking words of encouragement to her, as she felt a pair of strong hands untie her hands and throw her roughly to the hardwood floor to bleed to death.

Another needful spasm ravaged her exhausted, broken body. " _It's almost over, Renee_ ," came his voice. She responded to this phantasm in her mind by gulping air as if it were disappearing from the room, gritting her teeth as she did so.

Her ragged gasps became agonized screams as the blood poured from her wounds, tearing through her insides with such an excruciating force that she thought she was being ripped apart.

Though as she felt the darkness consume her, a vision in her mind flashed before her eyes, and Renee saw the only face she wanted to focus on.

 _Sirius_. And then, before the man could smile at her, the darkness claimed her.


	36. Chapter 36

Norah swallowed down thickly past the lump in her throat as it hollowed and constricted, feeling like she couldn't breathe at all, as hot tears marred her vision, blurring at the edges as she stood in front of the house.

Anger for what she felt at what Ollie had done to her, erasing her memories of that night in The Three Broomsticks, and all to save his own face, to not taint her image of him, and at Everett, for allowing himself to become so twisted and warped to the point where he had murdered innocent lives, including defenseless children, wasn't quite the right word for what she felt.

There was too much treacherous hope in the torpid whirlwind of her emotions to let anger be the one that was given the strongest reign over her mind right now.

The pain was certainly there for the young blonde witch, the continuous wound that burned in the confines of her chest, rendering that damned stubborn muscle that was her heart, now little more than a throbbing mass of corded muscle in her veins, to next to nothing.

It left her feeling more helpless than she had felt when she'd walked alone on the sidewalks of London upon Disapparating after that particularly violent transformation, with only Ollie's presence saving her.

Her mind felt like it was reeling, and as she had passed the news kiosks from various Muggle vendors upon her way to the fated place where she knew he'd be, she'd not wanted to read the headlines depicting the Morning Killer's latest victims, his newest catch's own kid brother. The poor boy was only six years old.

Norah's skin shuddered as it erupted into goosebumps, and it took the young blonde witch a moment to unravel it, if only because even now, she was having trouble believing her own blood brother would sink to such horrible levels. It was bad enough, killing an innocent grown woman or man, but _kids_?!

She felt a muscle in her jaw twitch as she looked away as she blinked back salty briny liquid, sure that fresh tears would slip from her lids at any given moment, with Norah feeling almost paralyzed and rooted to her spot outside the home that she was sure Everett was seeking refuge in.

It was the only place Norah knew her brother would think to go. Norah felt sickened by the furious hurt that bellowed its way through her battered, broken body.

If she could have let out a bitter laugh to herself, she would have, because she could swear their father's face flitted in front of her wolfish sight at this moment, screaming at her and Everett about the concept of love and family, and betrayal.

 _Hypocrite_ , she wanted to scream at him. Norah turned back around so she was facing the front, tears streaming down her pale cheeks in steady, unrelenting tracts, showing no signs of stopping soon.

Nothing like this should have happened, Norah told herself, but shadows from her past had a horrible tendency to reach out and shake something loose that would take her months to get rid of. She wondered how long this one, what she'd come here to try to do, would take before it faded away from memory, if at all.

She exhaled a shaking breath through her nose, turning back to face one of her worst fears: coming home. The house the two of them had grown up had called her home, at long last. Norah felt a muscle in her jaw twitch the moment she took a half-step forward, her wand fingers itching and twitching spasmodically as she fought against the urge to break down the door with a well-aimed Exploding Charm.

Norah didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than was necessary, lest she wakes the Muggles.

Norah froze, feeling rooted to her spot the moment a cold, icy hand had somehow wrapped its dead, stiff fingers around the pale column of her throat, and her heart, squeezing it so hard, she felt she couldn't breathe, and she very nearly cried out in pain from it.

 _Everett_.

She didn't know _how_ , she just _knew_ , call it a sister's intuition. There was something dark and foreboding hanging about her older brother, that had nothing to do with this old haunt, this doorway that she thought she herself would never set foot in again.

Her worry and concern for both her brother and this Muggle woman who'd captured Black's heart escalated to an entirely new level. No longer concerned about her husband's betrayal, or the fact that her lungs heaved and burned with such an intensity it felt as though she were being stabbed with hot, white knives, Norah forced herself to spring into action and fled up the steps.

Tragedies, Norah Brennan knew, were a finicky thing. Some drove you away from a place, some lingered rooted in your mind, whether you liked it or not, and others, Norah knew, as hers had, had brought both her and Everett home to a place they thought they would never dare to set foot in again.

Steeling herself before she could lose her resolve and her nerve, Norah pointed her wand's tip at the door, which was something of a difficult feat, considering how badly her left hand was so violently trembling.

" _Alohomora_ ," Norah whispered in a low, hushed voice, instantly rewarded for her efforts when the front door of their shared childhood home clicked open and swung open and inward of its own accord. " _Yes_!" she whispered in triumph, and the smile instantly slide off her face like that of Stinksap as an ungodly smell assaulted her flaring nostrils, which made her feel sick.

Vindication and anger coursed through her limbs, along with the overpowering need for justice. Everett had to be stopped, and hopefully, without violence. Her blue eyes squinted through the darkness, trying to see, and Norah knew it would be futile to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm in order to provide light to see.

Doing so would give away her position to her brother, and considering she was alone, she needed the element of surprise on her side, and if she wanted to prove to herself that she wasn't _stupid_ , then she'd—

The loud, almost deafening, familiar _crack_! of someone Apparating almost directly behind her caused poor Norah to raise her head so quickly as she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream, that she felt a muscle in her neck pull the wrong way and this movement sent a sharp wave of pain up her neck and through the curvature of her right ear. She bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and clamped her other hand over her neck in the hope of soothing the pain as she whirled on her heel to face the new arrival. Or rather, several new arrivals.

Norah blinked owlishly in response as the towering silhouettes of her husband, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin stood behind her now.

Black was the first to break the silence as he bounded forward on his heels, reaching for Norah's shoulders, and giving the younger blonde witch a sharp shake.

" _Where_?" he growled hoarsely in his rough, grating voice. "Where's Barreau, Mrs. Brennan? _Where_?!"

Norah opened her mouth to speak but didn't get a chance to as her husband answered before she could.

"Upstairs, Black," Ollie snapped in a voice wrought with worry and concern. He seemed to have eyes only for Norah. "Third door on the left, you need to hurry."

Black curtly nodded, but before he could so much as make a move forward towards the stairs, Lupin and Tonks rushed forward and bolted up the stairwell riddled with dust and grime before Sirius could move.

Sirius blinked, his pale grey eyes widened in shock and astonishment, though he quickly followed suit and bolted after his cousin and his best mate, hellbent on being the first one to reach Renee's side. His last thought before he plunged himself into the darkness of the old creaking house was a simple but poignant one.

 _I hope I'm not too late_ …

 _Kill him_ , a voice whispered that sounded entirely too much like Ollie's voice inside his mind for his comfort, and a vision of Everett's pale, handsome features flitted through the front of his mind as Sirius bounded the steps, two at a time, right behind Lupin and Tonks heading for the third door.

The tilt of the chin, the narrowed piercing green eyes, the fierce determination and urge to kill coursing through that creep's veins. Sirius would make it quick and erase the man from existence for what he'd done.

 _It would be easy_ , he thought, gritting his teeth in anger. Though, another image quickly replaced that of the Morning Killer.

A softer image. Renee's face. She was his…his _love_. Sirius stared ahead as he reached the top of the landing, his head spinning as the entire world rolled in and out in waves from under his feet. _Kill him, Black_.

Brennan's voice once again infiltrated his mind, speaking though this time more like Moony would, a utilitarian warning of sorts that it was better to act now and spare the rest of the world from Everett. To avoid all the agony that was to come if they spared him.

 _Tonks surely wants to kill him, as does Ollie_ , Sirius thought wildly, and there was no counter-voice. Nothing debating or discussing this radical idea in his mind, just an unending ringing silence, because, to Sirius, there was no conflict at all. Renee would be the death of him. Sirius skidded to a halt in front of Moony and Dora, practically barreling them over, and he regarded them both with angered eyes.

" _What the bloody hell_?!" Sirius roared, not bothering to mind the volume of his voice at this time. _Let him hear me. He knows it's over_ , Sirius thought, craning his neck to see past Lupin and Tonks' shoulders.

Their wands were raised somewhat, though they could see on sign of the Morning Killer anywhere. Their gazes were transfixed, dead ahead on a shadowy silhouette, though it was too faint to make out.

A horrible feeling of dread descended upon him as he craned his neck, feeling a sickening wave of cold descend over his entire body.

Something inside Sirius screamed at him to move, and for one terrifying moment, he found he couldn't.

"Moony?" he croaked. Remus didn't answer, and Sirius wasn't sure he liked the look of shock and anguish in the man's light brown eyes, nor how his lips held a thin line that only deepened as time passed.

As Sirius's eyesight adjusted to the dimly-lit hallway and the open bedroom directly in front of him, what Sirius did finally lay eyes on, almost made his knees go weak and give out, causing him to feel physically sick, like he was going to vomit.

Renee, laying utterly lifeless in the middle of the floor, unresponsive, and it didn't look like she was breathing. Momentum propelling him forward, he violently shoved past Lupin and Tonks, ignoring their warnings.

" _Be careful, Sirius_ ," Remus warned in a hushed murmur, careful to stay quiet, his eyes narrowed as he glanced nervously to the left and right.

Tonks's arm shot out as his cousin made to latch her fingers around the sleeve of his velvet maroon coat, but the man was like water, fluid and quick in his motions, and nearly impossible to catch in her fingers.

His gait and grasp unsteady, his pale grey irises wide with confusion, Sirius felt his equilibrium fail him as he didn't waste a second in appearing at Renee's side.

He plummeted to the hardwood floor, stained crimson with her blood, not caring if her lifeforce stained his clothing. His brain hardly registered the sheer force with which his strength had failed him.

"She…no, n—no, Moony, Dora, th—this isn't right…she—she's not breathing, Remus! Tonks!" he bellowed. He struggled to comprehend the entirety of the circumstances in his mind until he realized what it all meant.

He had abandoned the woman that he now knew to hold his wretched heart and had left her to die, and he had done it simply because he was _afraid_.

"Renee!" The sheer remorse and horror at what he'd done to the young blonde Muggle woman in his voice splintered, shattered, cracking through the desolate air, sending pieces of his heart into the blackness.

She was cold in his grasp, so much so that her own skin burned his own as his fingers ghosted along the skin of her collarbones. Barreau's eyes, once so blue with joy and life, now gazed upon him with a likeness like that of pale water, empty, listless, and void of life.

Still reeling, he could not seem to tear his gaze away from her seemingly lifeless form, his eyes not truly seeing.

"Oh, _God_ ," he gasped. "What…what have I _done_?" he wailed, not bothering to mind the volume of his voice as Sirius beseeched his cousin and best friend as if his sole companions these last few months had the answers he so desperately sought right now.

Renee was so small and delicate, even in death, a broken, fragile object cradled, nestled in his arms.

There was no strength in her hands, no steady rise and fall of life in her breast. The young woman was soaked in blood. A rich, bright, crimson hue that pooled around her leg and stained his hands, and his boots.

It poured from a wound in her kneecap, great and wide, almost ripping Renee apart at the seams from the inside out. He briefly looked towards Tonks and Lupin.

"H— _help_ me," he moaned, fully aware he was begging Moony and Tonks now, though he knew those two had no solutions to give, only able to study Sirius in sympathy, tears brimming unshed in their eyes.

Sirius's mind filled with images of how his life with Renee might have turned out if he'd gotten to her in time. He would have shared in the joys of the wizarding world with her, taken her somewhere, anywhere she wanted to go, and she'd do the same.

He'd missed all of that, because of one single kiss.

"I—is she….is she… _alive_?" he rasped hoarsely, his voice utterly choked and shaking with emotion. Gingerly and in desperation, Sirius gently pressed one of his hands to Renee's pallid, sunken-in cheekbones.

He flinched at how cold her skin was. "No…R—Renee?" His voice quivered and shook slightly as he formed her name, his heart plummeting to his chest.

Her face remained unchanged, her eyes were unmoving from beneath her closed lids. As his hand cradled one of her bruised and slender wrists, it dawned on Sirius that he couldn't feel the steady beat of Renee's pulse.

Then, the unthinkable he'd been trying to deny up to this point crept forth, seeping its bitter poison into his stomach, and working its way into his heart, that damned stubborn mass of throbbing corded muscle in his wretched chest that Sirius no longer had a use for.

A half-choked sob escaped him as he swallowed past a lump in his throat. Taking his hand that rested on the young woman's ice-cold cheek, Sirius slipped a hand beneath her shoulders as he cradled Renee's limp form, burying his face in her hair, keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut, fighting against his tears.

Remus shook his head remorsefully, though he made no move to enter the room, recognizing Sirius needed a moment. His face was pale and drained of all color.

"I—I'm _sorry_ , Padfoot, old friend," he whispered, his voice cracking as he swallowed down past a lump that had formed in his throat as he blinked back his tears.

Lupin's hand reached for the door and turned the knob, though he turned towards Tonks. "Let's give them a second before we get them out of here, Dora. She—she needs a proper burial if we can give her one," he murmured, whispering it into the shell of her ear, one hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the door. "We need to—to search for the rest of the house. Everett's _here_ , I can smell him. He's _close_ ," he growled, lowering his tone, and narrowing his eyes.

Tonks mutely nodded, though her heart was shattering into a million pieces for her cousin's sake.

The door slid open quietly, her eyes never straying far from Sirius still hunched onto his knees on the floor. Without another word, Lupin and Tonks left Sirius alone with Renee, now with only his tortured thoughts for company. Sirius's mind barely registered that he did not hear Lupin wave his wand and lock the door behind them, hopefully keeping the Morning Killer out, at a minimum, giving him five to ten minutes alone with Renee's body to say goodbye.

Sirius did not know how long he sat crouched in silence, his heart broken, his mind struggling to grasp a handle on the current reality of his situation: Renee was dead. Because of him. Bitter tears streamed down his cheeks. His thoughts were only focused on Barreau, and how he had failed the young blonde Muggle woman who had fallen through his bloody ceiling, now what seemed like it had been ages ago.

" _Please_ ," he begged, no, pleaded, to the lifeless young blonde woman cradled in his arms. "Don't do this to me, Barreau. Don't _do_ this to me. I—I _know_ it _hurts_ but stay with me. _Stay_. Please don't leave me, Renee."

He pulled away just enough to take another look at her face, which had become paler than usual, rendering her pallid, her skin now almost bone-white.

She did not react, and he felt nothing as he held her. Not the slightest movement of her chest rising and falling. His vision blurred, stinging with fresh tears and another choked sob wracked his body. She was…

She was _dead_. Sirius could not even begin to fathom what she had gone through, or what her last thoughts were before Everett had so coldly taken away her life.

Hers, alongside Moony and Tonks's, was the only opinion that Sirius gave a damn about in this world, and he'd sealed her fate and destroyed any good she must have once thought of him when he'd kissed her.

The life he might have shared with her was gone, and he would never get the chance to apologize to her.

Shattered once again, now much worse than any fallen bricks from the buildings around him when he'd lost control and had accidentally blown up the street could have ever done to his broken and wrecked body, Sirius's anguished thoughts centered around Barreau.

He could only conjure visions in his mind of what her hellish life had been these last few hours in captivity in the Morning Killer's clutches, and how she surely must have despised and hated him for not getting to her sooner.

"Oh, _god_ , oh, _Merlin_ , Renee," he sobbed, feeling his face twist and contort with grief as he finally allowed himself to truly feel his grief and shock. He spoke desperately into the blackness. "I'm…I'm so _sorry_ ," he choked out a half-ragged, gasping apology. Sirius thought it was a Merlin-damned miracle he was even able to form his words.

With the amount of pain he didn't know himself to be capable of that he was in at this point, it shouldn't even be bloody possible. And yet, he felt like he had to say something.

Even if Renee could no longer hear him or respond. He needed to tell her.

"I—I'm so…so _sorry_!" he sobbed. His shaking hands curled into fists and found purchase in the back of her skull, his fingers entangling themselves in Barreau's short blonde hair.

This was all his goddamned fault.

All he'd ever caused others was pain and suffering, and now…death.

He'd killed the first woman who'd taught him what it meant to truly care for her in a truly romantic way. How could he possibly live with himself? He'd killed Barreau in cold blood by failing to get to her in time.

She hadn't deserved to die like this! Not here, not alone, without her friends to surround her and say goodbye. He considered himself unworthy of the kindness or care, or perhaps even love she might have once shown her if only he'd gotten to Renee in time.

More tears flooded his wretched vision, and it was with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Sirius knew Barreau was dead. She'd left this world in a wrong, painful way that no one should have to. His heart gave another painful little lurch, and then, he realized he had another realization.

He was mourning her as if Barreau were all that he had left, and if that was the case, then what the bloody hell was happening to him? Was this what it felt like to truly love someone?

The way that Moony cared for Tonks? To have this horrible emptiness threaten to engulf you in its darkness entirely, so deep that it would have been better if he'd never learned to love a woman at all.

Was _that_ what it felt like? "If this is _love_ , I don't _want_ it," he whisper-hissed his words through gritted teeth.

Now that he understood what he felt for the lifeless blonde in his arms, now that he could understand this feeling of cold and warmth at the same time spiraling its way like a fiery rage through his chest, warming him and chilling his insides like fire and ice at the same time, if he could think it, could he…say it to her?

Out loud? Maybe Barreau could hear him if he tried?

"I…" he began, feeling unsure and hesitant. Yet, Sirius swallowed down thickly past the lump in his throat and forced himself to continue. She needed to hear it, even if it was only once. _You can do it_.

"I…love you, Renee. And I…I'm so _sorry_ , Barreau." In life, Renee Elizabeth Barreau had a ready smile and knowing blue eyes that seemed to twinkle with a certain sense of mischief he knew James would have taken a shine to and loved. In death, she was ghostly pale, her lips already bluish. Though her eyes are closed, Renee Barreau didn't have the appearance of sleep, even in deep slumber, there were tiny movements.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, though the sound of the door flinging wide open caused his head to whiplash so sharply upwards and turn his head behind him to see what was going on, that he felt a neck muscle pull, sending swells of hot pain up his spine.

From the opposite end of the room, Everett stood tall, his hulking silhouette looming in the doorway.

It was as if time itself had stopped. What little color was left in Sirius's face drained, his heart beating furiously within the confines of his chest, fear lacing through him as the older man stalked towards him. Everett's wand's tip was stained crimson at the end, beads of scarlet blood steadily and slowly dripping onto the hardwood floor, though whose blood it was, Sirius couldn't tell. The muscle within his chest stumbled and faltered at the sight of the garish lifeforce.

Fear mounted within his veins as a muscle in his jaw twitched.

" _You killed her_!" Sirius shouted, cringing at the fire in his throat from how hoarse his voice was. His heart stilled as Everett slowly raised his wand and approached, and Sirius's heart nearly stopped its frantic beating all together as his grip on Renee tightened.

"No. You did that _yourself_ , Black," he growled, steadily raising his wand, and pointing it at the man's slender chest. Sirius closed his eyes, hoping that his death would be painless as his vision behind his now-closed lids sent him into an all-encompassing void in which he ceased to exist.

He had the sense of the vast space of the otherwise empty bedroom around him was about to serve as his grave, but at least, he would be reunited with Renee again, and he could tell her how sorry he was for the pain and hurt he'd caused.

Before Sirius could so much as raise his wand, Everett pointed his wand squarely at Black's chest. " _Crucio_!"

Searing white-hot flares of pain erupted within his entire body, spiraling from the tips of his toes to his temples, reluctantly causing the poor bloke to loosen his grip on Renee's otherwise lifeless form.

The pain in his chest no longer lingered, and it felt as though his heart was no longer thumping in his chest.

Merlin was good to him. And before black completely blinded him and he lost consciousness, Sirius saw for what he suspected to be the last time, the only face he longed to see—bright blue eyes and white-blonde hair.

Renee. His Renee.


	37. Chapter 37

Norah could not shake the feeling of apprehension that flooded through her veins as she and Ollie stared at one another, both of them seemingly at a loss for what to say to each other.

It couldn't have been more than an hour or so that she had so coldly abandoned him and left her house out of intense anger that seemed to be burning her up from the inside out, twisting and warping her insides hotter than any dragon fire could ever flame, and of course, the chase she'd started.

Ollie had more or less begged her to stop, and yet, she'd left him, too upset to even _think_.

_Merlin_ , but how he must be _feeling_ right now. How confused, hurt, and betrayed.

She'd never once fled from the man, not in all the years that they had dated or been married, but…she hadn't been able to stomach looking him in the eye.

Norah couldn't recall the last time she'd felt this hurt, this afraid, that she couldn't let him see the uncertainty that she knew was in her blue eyes.

She blinked owlishly at her husband, almost certain the man was a phantasm in her mind at the exact same moment a cold draft of frigid air wafted through the hallway, and Norah swore the old haunt of a house groaned in protest and ire.

She shuddered, though considering this was her and Everett's childhood home that had long since fallen into disrepair ever since the Muggle family who'd bought it from her and Everett's grandparents following Father's 'untimely demise,' though Norah knew the _truth_ , had sold the house, claiming the old spooky foundation was haunted, and they wanted no part of it at all.

Though she always felt mutual towards the slight chill that clung to the air in this decrepit house.

The first minute or two of stepping in the door after so long away had set her on edge, and Norah couldn't remember the last time she felt so exposed and vulnerable.

But now, it felt as though the chilled melded with her very blood and bones.

And then, it dawned on her, hitting her with such an intense realization, that the young thirty-year-old blonde witch physically reeled back in awe. That this house had turned her… _complacent_.

That line of thinking disturbed her more greatly than the phantasm of her husband in front of her, who could not be by her side, he wasn't real, her Ollie, not after the horrible way she'd shouted at him and lost her temper and had _abandoned_ him.

Norah blinked, trying to banish the idea as a shudder flitted down her vertebrae, though whether or not it was due to the chill of the interior of the creaking house or of her own making, or the phantasm that was so clearly not-her-husband standing in front of her, she wasn't sure, but she knew she had to find Everett, fast.

Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, she forced her wolfish hearing to strain for any sounds, the thud of her older brother's heavy footfalls, a cry of pain, a shout, scream, _anything_.

She was met with nothing but silence, and Norah resisted her urge to throw back her head and _scream_. Her heart tightened uncomfortably at the thought of Merlin only knew how many people her brother had brought home to this place and killed.

Images of brief, sparse moments came to mind. The time Everett shoved her into a creek or when their father burned his hand on the stove, or when…when…she'd come home one day and found her father, lifeless and resting in his chair, his throat slit.

She made an odd sound in the back of her throat. Merlin damn it! Norah squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn't go there, not now. If she did then she'd bloody cry, and if she cried, she'd work herself up into a panic which would shut her mind down. Shutting down was something she couldn't afford.

Opening her eyes, Norah exhaled shakily through her flaring nostrils and looked towards Ollie, this cruel trick that her mind had sought to play on her. Her mouth quirked upwards in a wry smile.

Oh, if only he were really here beside her…Norah closed her eyes.

She opened them to find this phantasm that bore such a striking resemblance to her husband still watching her warily, guarded.

Caught unaware in her happy fantasy, Norah cleared her throat and gave her head a curt shake.

She made a motion to head towards the stairs, praying to Merlin and His Light Everett was still in the house, she had to find him before he hurt anyone else, though before she could, she heard _his_ voice inside her mind, clear and resolute.

_Do you remember that night_? Came his smooth, rich, and melodious voice that caused Norah to slowly gaze at the whisperer.

This night, like all other nights, Ollie's thick tuft of short cropped black hair was slightly disheveled, and she liked it that way, two-day stubble, and his rough, close-cropped beard gracing a strong Roman jawline.

Ollie smiled at her, but his lips remained a straight line as the intensity of his blue eyes bored straight through the windows of her soul, her own blue eyes, and she swore the phantasm saw her heart. She knew, and swore by Merlin Himself, that her mind was somehow playing a trick on her.

She was trapped in her own illusion. Her face remained in apathy as she gaped at the hallucination of her husband, and yet, for an image her overactive imagination had created, he seemed a much more solid figure than he ought to be. She was surely dreaming, indulging her mind.

Why she had to let Ollie ghost her after their fight, she didn't know. Perhaps it was out of guilt for leaving, for saying she'd find Everett on her own.

But now, she knew why her mind had conjured him. She knew there were things left unsaid, emotions left chained up between them, and words left imprisoned.

To her, Ollie was everywhere, haunting her, and even now as the phantasm took a cautious step towards her, still wearing the same guarded expression as before, she felt the ice on her cheeks in the form of the pads of his surprisingly gentle, tender fingers.

Norah closed her eyes, knowing that this was her way of protecting herself, not that Ollie had ever intentionally meant to hurt her. But…he _had_ ….

The only thing she was trying to do now was protect her heart. Externally, she seemed strong enough to fend for herself, but internally…what she felt at Ollie's betrayal, and Everett's, was completely different. She wanted all this to _stop_.

_Do you love me, Norah? Do you_? Ollie asked her.

"You _know_ I do, Ol. More…more than anything." She pursed her lips to swallow down hard past the lump in her throat, whispering in her assumed madness. She was, after all, the blood sister of a notorious murderer.

The media, Muggle, and wizard alike, would hound her for the rest of her life, simply because she was Everett's younger sister.

Yet, Norah allowed herself a moment to take comfort in talking to the apparition invented by her mind to assuage her guilt for leaving him.

"I still do, Ollie. And I don't remember that night on the roof, after…after you saved my life from that stranger," she added, crinkling her nose in disgust, though her blue eyes softened as she looked at Ollie. "But all I remember, Ollie, is _you_."

The man's voice fell quiet and silence in the air between them reigned, and Norah was sure her Ollie was a false image her own mind created, and still, she let her damned mind toy with her consciousness, continuing speaking to her in hushed whispers in her mind, sounding ashamed.

Norah's blue eyes widened in shock and surprise the moment she saw light crystals on the rims of her husband's eyes, looking down, and his handsome face became distorted by his futile attempts to stem his tears. She never saw Ollie cry.

She almost laughed silently to herself at the thought of her stoic husband shedding a tear, which her imagination was now clearly seeing.

Ollie Brennan was a man who _never_ cried. His face was as chiseled and rigid as pure marble, his words and temper sometimes sharper than steel, his magical skills of a dozen veteran Aurors, and the weakness of a prince when it came to Norah.

Norah held herself back, silently pleading with her mind to stop this delirium before it sent her mind insane.

She had a job to do. Find Everett.

But still, her lips continued the continuation of her heart, in spite of the worry that worked its way through the pit of her churning stomach, screaming at her to find Everett and stop him, get him out of here, find that Muggle girl that was gravely injured, and get the others back to a place of safety.

Yet nevertheless, Norah remained rooted to her spot, and her gaze transfixed as she lost herself in the shimmering tranquility of her husband's glistening blue eyes.

"It was right of you to make me leave that rooftop, Ollie, get me out of the cold, but…"

She paused, swallowing down past a lump in her throat as it hollowed and constricted, tightening.

"Wh—what wasn't right when _I_ left _you_ tonight. I…I'm _sorry_ …" she whispered, her face breaking.

Norah let out a muffled whimper as the phantasm took another two steps forward in quick succession, the squeak escaping her lips very real as she found herself in her husband's embrace.

Her eyes flung wide open as she felt her head rest around his hard, lean chest, and that was all it took for the dam to burst.

Tears welled up from the corners of her eyes and her body reacted of its own accord.

Suddenly, her arms were around his neck, her face pressed tightly into his left shoulder, that his sweater sleeve almost suffocated her, but Norah didn't care.

She let herself breathe in her husband's scent of old parchment paper.

Her shoulders began to shake and all the frustration, anger, hurt, pain, love, and post traumatic stress just erupted from the young blonde werewolf at once in a flurry of emotions.

Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, soaking through Ollie's black sweater, utterly drenching him. She seized fistfuls of his shirt.

She sobbed. _Hard_. Harder than she had the day she'd learned her brother was utterly insane, the day she'd cut off ties from him. Harder than she knew she'd ever cried in her life. He…was here.

"Don't leave me," Norah murmured, near desperation against the column of his throat.

She burrowed further into her husband's gentle embrace, her small arms wrapping around him.

Stunned at the open honesty of his wife's request, how raw and emotional she was being, Ollie mutely nodded, feeling his own throat tighten.

Her cheek found the hollow of his own throat, resting comfortably there, her short blonde strands tickling the skin of his jaw, and Norah's heart, which rested firmly against his, beat steadily and slowly as her heart rate slowed down.

Her shaking hands clutched at the back of his black sweater, as if fearing he'd vanish before her eyes without any semblance of warning from her.

Ollie felt Norah sigh against him, a contented sigh, and his arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer, not wanting to let her go.

Everett was going to have to wait a damn minute.

"Is this a dream?" He felt Norah's words rather than heard them and couldn't resist from answering with his own response to his wife.

"No, sweetheart, but…if it _is_ , it's a good one?" He lifted a hand from her waist and stroked his fingers comfortingly along the center of her spine.

"Can I…" Norah bit down on her bottom lip as she reluctantly pulled back a bit to study his face. "Can I come home?" she whispered in a hoarse voice, her face flushed a healthy rosy pink color.

He wanted to almost laugh at Norah's plea, thinking it ridiculous that his wife even had to ask.

But the laughter he tried to force himself to utter turned into hot water brimming in his blue eyes. His chest was undulating with a horrible pressure, which escaped his chest, throat, and lips as a sob he was trying to swallow down, but Ollie couldn't.

His answer was not spoken in words, instead, he showed her, as he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss.

In that moment of their gentle embrace, Norah and Ollie became one in each other's kiss, their kiss brief but steeped in a passion that ignited, the promise of realness, of the primal desires that lived in both of them.

And with it, Ollie told his wife that he was awake, that he embraced who he was rather than hiding as a copy of those stupid romantic idols that other witches fawned over.

They broke apart at last, panting and gasping heavily as their lungs burned, biting for cold air.

Norah made to move in again for a second kiss, before telling Ollie they had to _go_ , and _now_ , when an odd sort of movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

" _Ollie_!" she hissed, her blue eyes widening as Everett's hulking, unmistakable towering silhouette came into view.

She reached out and caught the Legilimens by his shoulder blades, dragging him back into the shadows with her, hoping her brother hadn't seen.

_Oh, my Merlin. If there's ever such a thing as ill timing, this is it_ , Norah thought, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to calm down her racing heart. It thumped so damned audibly loud that she thought it was a surprise her brother hadn't heard.

She exhaled a shaking, barely audible breath through her flaring nostrils as Everett's shadow stalked past them, albeit slowly, as if taking his time.

_Oh, my God… he—he didn't see us. Yet_. Norah stiffened, fear clawing its way along the borders of her already fragile psyche and heart.

The young blonde witch swallowed down thickly, feeling like there was a gag over her mouth, and her lips went dry.

Her fingers clenched into fists and she dug them into the skin of her palms.

"Where are the others? Sirius, Lupin, Tonks?" she asked, speaking in a low and hushed tone.

Norah let out a hiss as she felt Ollie nudge beside her.

"What?" he fidgeted, and then stalled his movements, coming to almost a complete stop.

"The _others_ , sweetheart," Norah alliterated, still watching the towering form of her older brother search the downstairs for something.

Or _someone_. She gulped. She was afraid if she took her eyes off Everett, the man would be like trying to catch smoke in between her fingers and gone yet again.

And that was the last thing she bloody needed.

"Where did they go? Did they find Barreau?"

"I…I don't know," Ollie admitted in a whisper, his face pained, sounding very apprehensive.

Norah gritted her teeth and swore under her breath, afraid if she spoke out loud, he'd hear.

Ollie glanced sideways out of the corner of his eyes as his wife. His Norah was pale.

Paler than he had ever seen the petite little werewolf before, her blue eyes stretched wide in growing fear and anger, her perfect, pink lips pulled into a thin line.

Her fingers dug even further into the skin of her palms until Ollie swore he heard the blood drip.

"Norah—" he started to say but was cut off, his own blue eyes going wide and round with shock the moment an axe planted itself between them.

Norah screamed, and Ollie didn't hesitate to fling his arm out in front of his wife and shoved her aside, out of harm's way, as the instinct to protect his wife and the others from this man took over.

He heard her muffled squeak of surprise, and for once, Ollie didn't apologize for his rough handling.

"I'd heard you'd come back looking for me, Norah, it's...good to see you," Everett's voice murmured in a hushed, secretive tone and Norah's blood went sour, as she blearily looked up once the stars cleared from her sight. "I've never met your charming husband, but why do my guts say that this is him, sweet _sister_?" he asked in an otherwise pleasant and jovial tone.

Everett finally stepped forward from the shadows, dissipating the strength from Norah's knees a second time as the witch struggled to stand and found that she lacked the strength.

Ollie felt his knuckles go white as his fists clenched. "It's _you_ , isn't it?" he snarled angrily.

He'd never met Everett, but even now, the man could see why his wife never wanted to speak of him, why she was more or less afraid of her brother.

There was an unhinging effect on him. He was tall and broad underneath his clothes and moved deftly as Ollie forced Norah to retreat. The Legilimens and Auror knew this was no ordinary wizard who was now drawing nearer.

"I must say, sister, you _do_ know how to pick them," Norah's brother sighed, still unsmiling.

As a beam of moonlight streamed in through the living room window as Ollie and Norah continued their retreat landed upon the man's face, Ollie could see the man wore the face of an Auror, a warrior, scathed and scratched from pursuit, but even as the years of an incredibly hard life took its toll on his youth (he could not have been older than forty, ten years older than Norah!), his forest green eyes were raging, burning with a passion to kill Ollie where he stood.

He could read his mind. Everett barely glanced at Norah, and Ollie flinched as he heard a low, mournful whine emerge from deep within Norah's chest, already grieving the loss of her brother who wasn't dead.

_Yet_ , he thought through gritted teeth as his blue eyes darkened and flashed indignantly like lightning.

_But you will be_.

Though before Ollie could allow that familiar hot fire-seed of anger to course through his bloodstream, perhaps the one and only time he would welcome it freely, Everett spoke again, shattering the man's concentration.

"I ought to rip out your throat right here in favor of my sweet sister, though to lessen my sister's suffering, I think you and I might share the chance for an alliance, Brennan, with your Ministry connections, wouldn't you say? Oh, and…" Here, he paused, his green eyes raking over his sister's violently trembling form as she ducked for cover behind Ollie. "Since you and I share a _relative_ now, I guess that makes you my brother-in-law."

Everett leaned forward close enough to whisper into the shell of Ollie's right ear, his words sending a cold chill down Ollie's spine as he spoke them.

" _Smile_ for me, brother. You're _home_ now."

And time stood still as the infamous Morning Killer crushed his forehead squarely between Ollie's eyes; a truly wild and insane form of familial greeting, which sent the bastard sprawling down to the hardwood floor beneath them with a broken nose and a bloodied grunt as he clutched his nose.

Ollie's eyes watered as white-hot blinding light erupted from behind his lids as he bellowed like an enraged bull, blood gushing between his fingers.

As a consequence of shutting his eyes closed, he did not see Everett grab Norah by the waist and Disapparate towards the roof, but he heard it, could hear their footsteps on the roof.

" _No_ …" he groaned, trying so hard to get his voice to speak, yet nothing was coming out.

Then something dawned on him, something he'd bloody forgotten, and he felt, even more, the _moron_ for it.

Mustering every ounce of strength and control the man could manage, Ollie removed his violently trembling, crimson-stained hands from his broken, twisted nose and lifted his head towards the stairwell that Lupin, Tonks, and Sirius had gone up in search of the young blonde Muggle.

He shouted desperately at the top of his lungs.

" **LUPIN! TONKS! SIRIUS!** " he roared, hoping that his voice carried enough to hear his plea for help to save his wife in time.

Ollie grunted and gasped with the effort to bring himself to his feet as he staggered towards the stairwell, his strength sapped, too weak to Apparate.

He could only hope he wasn't too late. The one thought that permeated his mind and gave him the strength to continue climbing the stairs was a simple but poignant one.

_Mark my words, Everett. Mark them well. You're going to suffer for what you've done. How could you?_

His words were met with silence, though he knew Norah's brother could bloody well hear him.

_I'm coming for you._

_And when I do, Everett, I'm going to kill you…_


	38. Chapter 38

Lupin walked steadily through the corridors of the house, hating how it seemed as though the very foundations of the house creaked and groaned with every step he and Dora took.

His grip upon his wife's hand tightened, and he could not shake the sense of dread that wafted up and down his spine, wishing with all his might that Dora would have stayed home with Teddy, and let him handle apprehending Everett alongside Sirius and Ollie and Moody, but this felt like too much.

His mind was still reeling, struggling to process what he and Dora had witnessed, seeing the young blonde Muggle woman's body so still and lifeless on the blood-stained hardwood floor of the bedroom, hearing Sirius cry for perhaps the first time in his life.

The man had suffered enough, only now to possibly face the worst possible suffering that there could be. Losing perhaps the first woman, Muggle status notwithstanding, that had dared to love him and show him what the emotion truly meant, unfazed by his womanizing past of flitting through witches like they were little more than used parchment paper when he was younger.

Lupin drew in a shaking breath as he felt his own body quake in anger, shock, and hurt, at what Norah Brennan's brother had stripped from Sirius, what he'd taken from him, without even realizing it.

Or maybe he _did_ , and that was one of the reasons why he'd killed her, either way, it was more than enough for Lupin to want to tear down this house wall for the wall until they found Everett and let the Aurors deal with him, though he wasn't even sure the Ministry would want him.

Renee, Remus knew, had quickly become a good friend to Tonks in the relatively short span of the two women knowing one another, simply on the basis that the young blonde had saved her life, simply by giving her testimony.

And Lupin wasn't ashamed to admit this next part, the girl had become endearing to him too, had touched his own heart in a way that he felt certain her perspectives and outlooks on life had changed a part of him in the process.

In his own way, he loved Renee. She respected those close to her with a fiery passion, her family, friends, Tonks, even Remus himself. But Lupin could see now, the memory of it would be forever ingrained in his mind, of how tenderly Sirius had held her, stroked her blonde tresses off her forehead, was that the person she had grown to care for the most, despite their rather rocky start, was Sirius.

He was the one who held her heart, whether or not the man was aware of it or not. And, in Remus's opinion, no one else could ever hope to understand his best friend in the way that the young blonde Muggle from London seemed to be able to. No one but Renee Elizabeth Barreau seemed capable of standing a chance at capturing Sirius's heart.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of watching Black clutch onto Barreau's too-pale, unmoving form flitted in the front of his mind. Tears had begun to flow down the former prisoner of Azkaban's face as he cradled Renee in the middle of the upstairs bedroom as if she were made of the most delicate china.

He heard Tonks made an odd, muffled noise behind him, and Remus turned just in time to shoot out an arm to prevent his wife from falling as she stumbled, groping along the wall for light, even with her lighted wand held outstretched in her hand it was still too dark.

She cursed under her breath as Lupin quickly helped to steady and right his wife, shooting him a quiet look of gratitude with just her eyes and a slight incline of her head. Lupin cocked his head to the side and strained his wolfish hearing to the best of his ability in order to listen for more sounds.

"I—I don't think I have it in me to kill him, Dora," he murmured slowly. "Though I don't even think with what he's _done_ to those poor people, his…his victims…that even the Aurors will want him," he growled in an angered, clipped tone that did not sound like himself at all, as he gingerly led Tonks away from the closed bedroom door and down a different hallway.

Sirius deserved to have a moment of peace alone with Renee, even if it was only a minute. He cringed and hated to think of what they might find when the two of them came back to check on him, though they weren't going far.

Regardless, Sirius needed time to say goodbye. He knew the pain his best friend must be suffering was the most horrible, wracking form of torture that a man should never have to experience for himself if it could be helped, and there wasn't a thing that Remus could do about it in order to help him, and he hated all of this.

And…if…if Padfoot wished for his suffering to end with her, then Lupin knew he couldn't interfere, and at least, they'd be together, in a macabre, poetic way that was only often spouted about in books, but he had a feeling for Sirius what he felt for Renee was real.

"Let Moody and Ollie handle him, Remus, you—you don't have to do anything," came Tonks's voice, concern for her husband plain as day evident in the young witch's voice.

He furrowed his brows, pausing in the middle of the hallway, still straining his ears to listen for more sounds, the resonating of heavy footfalls that were sure to belong to Everett, the sound of a cry, a scream, something, and when he heard nothing but silence, Lupin felt the muscles in his shoulders, which had been tensed, relax.

"I…I don't know what to do for him," Lupin admitted, cringing as he swallowed down thickly past a lump in his throat as he felt it start to hollow and constrict the moment he glanced back over his shoulder toward the door where they'd left Sirius alone with her.

Tonks shook her head sadly, sideswiping a lock of her light bubblegum pink hair out of the way. "Not unless you have the power to bring her back. This—this shouldn't have happened, Remus. She—she can't be…" Her voice cracked as she trailed off, unable to finish her thought out loud.

Though Remus knew Tonks didn't need to. He understood. Tonks swallowed thickly past her drying throat, and could no longer hold back her tears, burst into near hysterics as Lupin wound his arms around his wife, tucking her head underneath his chin, holding her tightly against him and running his hand through her short pink hair, his fingers entangled in it.

It hurt like hell to see her poor cousin in such a way and she had no power to stop or prevent it from happening. She had no idea what to do! She wanted everything to turn out for the better, but the Barreau girl was dead so _how_?

Renee had looked so…so…pale. Lifeless. She had not moved or screamed or cried or made any kind of motion that she was alive.

And Sirius! Oh, but her cousin was heartbroken, and there was no telling in his rage and anger what those whirling emotions in the man's mind would drive Sirius to do.

Tonks didn't even want to think about what he would do to himself. In fact, they needed to turn around and go back, she and Remus should never have left him alone with Renee.

Tonks drew herself away from her husband and made to turn around to storm down the hallway and sit with Sirius in the old desolate bedroom to make sure he didn't hurt himself.

"W—we have to go back, Remus," Tonks whispered, swallowing down past a lump in her throat as she blinked back more tears. "We shouldn't have left Sirius alone, Remus."

Though before Tonks could stalk down the hallway towards the bedroom that she and Lupin had left Sirius in, to head back the way she came, Lupin caught her gently by her arm and pulled her back to him so that she was once more nestled against his chest tightly.

"Dora," he began slowly, choosing his words cautiously, his light brown eyes swimming with tears of his own, and a lump in his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed them back. "He needs…to say goodbye. Give him a moment. Let him have it. Sirius needs to say goodbye to her. We shouldn't interfere, sweetheart," Remus knew the moment his words had left his lips that they had hit their mark, as confusion began to roll through his wife instantly.

She shook her head. "We can't, Rem! What if he _hurts_ himself?! We can't just let—"

"And let him _what_? _Join_ her?" Lupin's own expression hardened considerably as he reached over, putting both of his hands on top of Tonks's shoulder, and giving her a firm shake. "Did you not _see_ him back there, Dora? Sirius is in more pain and suffering over this than I've ever seen him before. Nothing that man ever did to him could possibly be _worse_ than this. Why would he even _want_ to live after witnessing someone he cared about being taken away from him in the worst way possible, love?"

"Wh—what are you _saying_ , Remus?" Tonks asked, wide-eyed in confusion and utter horror, staring at Lupin incredulously as though she could not quite believe her ears. "That we just let him—no, we—we _can't_ do that!" she yelled.

Lupin opened his mouth to argue his point, imploring his wife to see his perspective, though a scream that sounded like it was coming from downstairs rendered him frozen, whatever he was about to say dying on his tongue.

At the sound of his and Dora's name being called so desperately and so full of fear, Remus pulled away from Nymphadora and started to bolt towards the stairwell, Tonks right behind him.

Her face had gone pale and shock was clear upon her face, her pale grey irises wide and round, brimming with tears. No sooner had the two of them reached the top of the stairwell than were they greeted by a sight that very nearly sent Tonks spiraling into a fresh wave of tears as her best mate staggered to climb the stairs to reach them.

Ollie was pale, paler than she'd ever seen the man. His jet-black hair stood out sharply against his skin, and both dried and fresh tears were seen on the Legilimens and Auror's face.

Blood was gushing from both of his nostrils, and his nose was twisted horribly to the right, looking as though their suspect had broken it.

Tonks didn't even question it, she was too petrified and scared to even consider it at this moment. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Ollie, bloody hell, what—" Tonks started, but the man spoke up at the same time as her.

"H—he's got her. He's got Norah, I don't—"

" _Ollie_." It was Remus who interrupted the younger man at the beginning of his fully-fledged panic attack, his voice soft but urgent, as he moved forward and rested a hand on his arm. "I don't think her brother will harm her; she's safe, but the longer we stay in this house, we're exposed. Follow me, and you and I will—"

A scream pierced the air from outside above their heads and echoed somewhere above them.

The three froze for a second before they came to the same conclusion: That was Norah's voice and she sounded like she was in grave danger.

"The roof!" Tonks swore under her breath, reaching for her wand, grabbing Lupin's hand and made a move to bolt for the stairwell just down the hallway to their immediate right that looked like it would take them up to the top.

" _Wait_." A hoarse, rough, grating voice erupted from behind him, halting the three of them in their progress to make for the doorway.

Tonks cringed, squeezing her eyes shut as she slowly turned on the heels of her boots and pivoted at the waist to look into the deadpan eyes of her cousin.

She knew she'd regret it if she looked into the man's shadowed, dark-lidded eyes, but Merlin damn it, she looked at her cousin. Sirius's face was pale, his skin waxy and his cheekbones taut and emaciated.

It sent a shiver down both Tonks and Lupin's spines, with Remus thinking he looked how he had that night a few years ago in the Shrieking Shack when he and Remus had confronted Peter Pettigrew alongside Harry and his friends.

His dark, shoulder-length hair hung in front of his face like a curtain, effectively shielding whatever expression he wore from either of them, though as he lifted his gaze and looked not at Remus or Tonks, as Lupin expected Sirius to do, he turned towards Ollie, staring. Sirius's lips trembled as he exhaled a shaking breath.

"He's mine. **MINE**!" he growled in a hoarse voice that immediately made Lupin flinch. His voice sounded as though he'd lost the use for it.

"Sirius—" Lupin started to say, though the moment Black's head whiplashed sharply upward to regard his best friend, and Remus caught a glimpse of the heartbreak and anger in his friend's darkened eyes, he quickly fell silent.

"Moony! I'm warning you...I've reached my limit. My fingers are twitching!" One glance down at the fingers of his wand hand curled in a tight fist over the handle of his wand was enough to confirm that. "I'm _not_ going to let him hurt anyone else," he snarled through gritted teeth, clenching his fists, turning the worst of his wrath on Ollie, who was looking very much like he wanted to protest, to tell Black to get in line, because Everett was his, though the younger man must have thought better of it, for he clamped his mouth shut and mutely nodded his agreement, favoring silence.

Sirius's jaw muscle twitched as he turned towards Dora and Remus. "You lot coming?" he growled, and without even waiting for an answer, turned on his heels and bolted up the stairwell.

A horrible, ear-piercing shout shattered the eerie silence of the otherwise now deserted townhouse. "That smug son of a… I'll _kill_ him! Get in line, Black, I'm _first_!" Ollie bellowed at the top of his lungs, barreling past Sirius, and practically jostling the man's shoulder in his haste to be the first to fling the door open that led to the rooftop. "Hang on, Norah, baby, we're coming! Just hang on a few more seconds, sweetheart," he pleaded, hoping he could hear her, though Norah's startled shout was lost beneath the thunder that rolled overhead.

His wife called his name again, her shout clipped by an oppressive boom. After several long seconds of silence as the group barreled through the doorway and their eyes adjusted to the blackness of the night sky around them, Ollie and Sirius collectively froze, rooted to their spot.

Everett stood on top of the ledge, his sister in front of him as a human shield, with Norah shoot a pleading tear-filled gaze up to her brother, before looking towards Ollie and Sirius.

The tip of his wand was pressed firmly into the column of his sister's throat, hard enough to pierce her skin without Everett uttering a word.

" _Sister_ ," Everett grinned, whispering it into the shell of Norah's ear. "Look. You were right, he actually _came_ ," he smirked, rolling his eyes a bit. His smile darkened and his eyes narrowed as he noticed all of them, Ollie, Remus, Sirius, and Tonks, and Moody, though with his bad leg it took him longer to climb the stairs, had their wands raised and pointed squarely at his chest, though all seemed reluctant to fire in the event they accidentally hit Norah and hurt the woman.

"Everett, don't _do_ this," Norah pleaded.

Tonks blinked owlishly at the scene in front of her, wildly racking her brain as she tried to think of some spell that would let them take the man down without causing harm to Norah or causing him to get skittish and flee, taking Norah with him. She heard Norah's words but was having trouble processing them and putting it all together. How in the bloody hell could this be…?

" _Go_ ," Norah's voice came again, though she wasn't speaking to Everett, Tonks noticed with a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Her icy blue gaze had hardened, and she was looking at her husband. "I—I can't let you take him, Tonks. Ollie! He—he's my _brother_ , Tonks!" She swallowed down hard past the lump in her throat. "Y—you all need to leave. Now!" she yelled. " **GO! NOW**! _Get the hell out of here_!"

"Norah," Tonks called out in an urgent voice as she took a cautious half-step forward, still careful to keep her voice low, Lupin right beside her, wishing for nothing more than to go the other way and put as much distance between her and the Morning Killer as possible without it seeming obvious.

Though she was sure the fear was laced throughout her eyes.

"Your—your brother isn't _right_. He—he _killed_ Billy and Renee Barreau, and Merlin only knows how many others. He—he _needs_ to face justice for his crimes. Let us take him in. Please don't do anything _stupid_ , Norah," Tonks begged quietly.

"I…I…" Norah tried to speak and was sure the only thing she was doing at the moment was making a noise like a dying fish, though before she could open her mouth to say anything further, Everett shoved Norah forward, towards the outstretched and waiting arms of her husband.

He heard his younger sister squeak and stumble in surprise at his roughness, but for once, the man did not apologize for his handling. His gaze remained fixed on Sirius.

Sirius could feel his tears make away, clearing a path through Renee's blood on his face as Everett half-smiled a smile that chilled him.

"You _killed_ her…" Sirius's teeth chattered, his voice barely above a whisper. Everett remained unscathed, not bothered as he noticed the Tonks woman out of the corner of his eye dart across the roof and pull his sister up by her forearm and drag her out of the way. He almost smiled.

_Good_. He didn't want Norah to get hurt.

"You did that _yourself_ , Black," Everett growled dispassionately, enjoying the emphasis on his words, and the pressure in Sirius's head finally exploded along with a blood-curdling scream and his wand pointed at Everett's chest as he started firing spells. Sirius dove at the Morning Killer, tackling the man to the floor of the room, the blood pounding in his ears, drowning out the screams of Norah, Tonks, and Lupin's shouts for Sirius to stop it.

But there was nothing that could stop the storm that was coming. He had the overwhelming, burning desire hotter than any dragon fire could ever flame coursing through his veins, and he knew that as he dug the tip of his wand into the column of his throat, similar as he'd done to Norah a split second ago, he wondered what his last words to Renee had been. His heart pounded hard in his chest, hard rhythmic drumming that he heard in his ears.

" _Don't do this, Sirius! Let Tonks and I deal with this, Black! Don't be a bloody fool_!" Moody roared, and there was a hard vibration as the two continued to duel that Sirius was unfazed by. Moody must have used his walking stick to cause that vibration, Sirius quickly rationalized.

Though Moody and Dora and Remus's voices, even Ollie's, their voices sounded muffled, faint.

Every nerve on his body was on high alert. He knew his friends were only looking out for him, but it wasn't death Sirius feared. It was the thought that he would get a chance to take him to hell with him if he were to die here tonight.

He could live with such a death if he could protect Moony and Dora from suffering at Everett's hand. Discovering Renee dead had been the only time in Sirius Black's entire existence he'd known fear.

It was a terrible feeling, and for a moment he'd stood there frozen blinded by the feeling of this new emotion, not sure how to react. As he'd held Barreau in his arms, he felt the sprouting of devastation, sadness, betrayal inside his wretched chest. And now, the only thing he felt was the feeling of uncontrollable rage.

It was the rage Black summoned here as he imagined killing Everett for what he'd taken from him. And he itched, yearning to see the life leave his eyes.

He yearned to _punish_ him for what he'd done. What Everett had _taken_ away from him.

With a horrible, guttural scream that caused the fine hairs on the backs of Norah's and Lupin's necks to stand upright, and for the blood in Tonks, Ollie's, and Moody's veins to run cold, Sirius only needed to give one sharp flick of his wand in one long diagonal movement and warm blood instantly gushed from a wound at his chest.

Someone screamed, probably the sister, but Sirius didn't give a damn about that anymore.

There was such a raging passion that made his pale grey irises shrink. A series of memoirs rolled within his mind and with it equaled a hard rip through Everett's flesh and blood. When at least his strength gave away, Sirius's blood-slimy fingers remained frozen.

He didn't care if he killed the man, he would willingly spend the rest of his life in Azkaban for this murder, Sirius was proud to have his blood on his hands. Everett had taken Renee from him, the first woman in his life that he'd ever truly cared for, in the span of only five minutes.

The Morning Killer had just killed Renee, the only good thing he had left in a cruel life of isolation, and Sirius knew that he was now hardly human, the mean thoughts of revenge flitting through his mind. Did he still even have humanity? Did he still have a soul?

He had been human once. Maybe he'd been a human the entire time. Maybe he had blocked out all his humanity so he could taste the only thing he now craved: _Revenge_. Sirius knew at this moment that he had lost the right to be called by that title, a human. He wanted nothing more than to watch him bleed out. A human stopped being human when they lost their humanity.

It took Sirius Black exactly five minutes for him to lose his.


	39. Chapter 39

Renee blinked to clear the crust from her lids as her vision slowly but surely cleared at once. Where…where the hell was she? What happened?

Everything was dark. She couldn't see, the only thing she could hear was the pounding of the blood in her ears. She couldn't move. There was nothing, and yet… _pain_.

Something the young blonde couldn't identify, yet she knew it was there. Her body felt heavy, like someone had placed two huge bags of flour on her shoulders, like the kind she took the delivery from the van on Mondays and Fridays biweekly at The Broken Spoon.

The weight now sought to crush her, to engulf her until she caved. She had thought death was less painful. But then again, she felt caught in a churning tide as all at once, she was aware of the searing pain that tormented her body.

It was almost more than she could bear. Her muscles attempted to move, to writhe in agony, though her aching bones refused to move and kept her pinned in place, lying, waiting for…for Sirius. But he didn't come back.

She'd heard his voice, soft, desperate, pleading voice…speaking to her, but…something about his tone was off.

Renee had heard the man speaking to her, but could only answer him in mimic, her emotionless eyes staring blindly up at the ceiling in front of her, and all Renee Barreau truly saw as she had looked into the listless eyes of Everett's cold, glistening green eyes, was Sirius's loving face. She hadn't cared if the man had taken her life, but…but…how?!

Renee blinked, inhaling a breath that was more of a hiss that sounded raspy in her dry and parched throat, and the coppery taste of her own blood lingered on her tongue.

 _Holy crap_ , she thought wildly, her eyes flinging wide open, though Renee quickly squeezed her eyes shut, wishing her pain would just end. _I—I don't know how, but I'm alive. Not dead. Not dead, which means…Sirius is still here… but…where…_ Renee groaned, trying to get up, but quickly realized how futile that was when she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.

Sharp pain lanced its way down the hole in her ribcage where Everett had stabbed her with his stupid knife and then there was her leg too. It felt like her whole body had been beaten and every movement was causing some muscle or bone to ache and scream for relief, demanding she lay still. But she couldn't sleep! She _had_ to fight!

She had to reach the others, to see Sirius before… Renee shook herself, grinding her teeth, forcing herself to open her eyes, urging, imploring her body to move, somehow, no matter how much it hurt her to do so.

Renee knew she couldn't bloody stay here, if she stayed then she would certainly slip back permanently into that dark abyss and her new friends were as good as dead. She had to wake up! She couldn't bloody die out here alone.

Not here, not now, not when they needed her. Though that was admittedly easier said than done as the heaviness that filled her limbs threatened to keep her sprawled on this disgusting hardwood floor.

Her body felt like it had been burnt before being dumped into a truck of hot garbage juice.

Hot, searing, flaring pains licked its way up the right side of her battered and broken body and seemed to meld its way to a headache so severe, it could have cleaved her entire skull in half, and Renee doubted she feel it. Her muscles were stiff and screamed in protest as she struggled with gritted teeth to lift herself off of the floor.

Renee's legs buckled under the weight of the pain as she struggled to stand up, falling to her knees, the palms of her hands cutting into the wood of the floor on impact.

Damn it. This was…not good. Not good at all. " **MOVE** , goddamn it!" she swore, grinding her teeth against the pain as she willed her body upward, latching onto the nearest thing she could find for support, which in this case, just happened to be the wooden leg of the same chair that Everett had hogtied her to a while ago.

If she was going to help Sirius and Tonks and the rest, she needed to get some semblance of her bearings back.

Renee gritted her teeth hard against the pain, summoning every ounce of what meager strength her body still possessed not to scream and cry out in agony.

"Damn, this _hurts_ ," she moaned as she pushed herself against the intense throbbing in her right side, her knuckles white with the effort to steady herself as her fingers latched themselves around the back of the chair.

After a few seconds of struggling, the young blonde let out a shaky breath, keeping her eyes still tightly closed to give her body a second to adjust of being upright for an extended period of time. A difficult feat, considering the nature of her wounds, but at least the bastard hadn't killed her.

 _Have to get out of this craphole and save Sirius. Save Lupin. Save Tonks. I—I owe them all my life. Move, or your ass is grass and Everett's the fucking lawnmower_.

She froze, however, when she heard the shouting, Sirius's voice mingled with Lupin and Tonks's, with the latter pleading with Sirius to stop whatever he was doing.

 _They're on the roof_. Renee blinked, her eyes widening in shock and surprise as she swore she heard Billy's voice. _You can make it, sis. Just a small walk, and you're there_.

"Oh, thank god," Renee whispered, feeling fresh tears well in her eyes and spill over.

Wincing in pain, she maneuvered her way bluntly and clumsily through the dark bedroom, starting to grab onto various pieces of furniture before groping along the wall to steady herself.

Searing, fiery bursts pulsated around her wounds, intensifying with each dragging step, jarring and brutal. With each push forward, her pains amplified, her consciousness ebbing and flowing.

Black mists swirled at the edges of her mind, tempting her to slip back into that endless abyss, that sweet oblivion and just sleep through her haze of pains.

 _You can't do that, Ren,_ Billy's voice told her. _You gotta fight it. Stay awake. Get up to the rooftop_.

Her pains from where Everett had stabbed her, both in her ribcage and her leg throbbed, commanding her attention. It did not sit quietly in the background; it instead cowed her brain into a horrible meek submission, demanding a solution that Renee didn't think she could provide for herself. Her pain was constant and debilitating.

Without a break in her pain with each step forward that she took, Renee could barely form a thought, or take enjoyment in the fact that she wasn't dead, or even at the thought of seeing Sirius and the others alive again.

Her pains were an icy wind choking the breath from her lungs and making a noose around her neck. Its savage, bitter blasts cut right to her bones and gripped her brain in its claws. Her heart constricted in its wake, as if not sure if it should go on beating.

"Keep going," she whispered, encouraging herself.

Now her grandfather was talking to her, how the hell that was, she didn't know, but she welcomed his raspy voice, worn from years of smoking his pipe.

 _My dear, you are almost there. I am sorry for the monstrosities, the horrors in your life you've endured, but you've always been a strong woman. You can do this. Just a few more steps. You're almost there. You won. You're still alive, dear_. _I didn't raise my grandchildren to be quitters_. _Now, get up, and get up there._ His voice was a harsh bark as the tone he used to use in the military seeped through the surface of his voice.

Renee opened her mouth to thank both her fathers, but the pain in her neck and around her ear was like a knife being twisted.

It shot up fast, erasing every thought from her head and paralyzing her body, causing the last of her strength to give out and she stifled a cry as she collapsed to the floor, her head striking the hardwood floor as she stared into the darkness.

Apparently, she screamed, but she didn't recall that part, only the pain.

It couldn't have lasted long though because she heard other voices nearby. Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself to swallow down hard past the lump in her throat and pulled herself upright, dragging herself up the stairwell.

She couldn't be sure, but she swore she heard Black's hoarse voice screaming obscenities she didn't know the man had it in him to know such language that would have otherwise made her laugh but laughing was the last thing she felt like doing right now.

She didn't know how she made it up, but with great effort that caused the wound in her side to throb and pulsate, she twisted the brass doorknob, not even giving a damn that the doorknob was now stained with her own bloody hand print.

Renee was getting used to the dryness of her mouth and the constant swallowing of nothing but now there was the thick, disgusting taste of slime and the taste of warm iron between her tongue and palate.

Renee turned to the side and spat the blood that filled her taste buds and out on the roof with everyone else, she stood there in the background, her body violently trembling while trying to curb her pained, gasping breathing. It hurt.

It hurt as hell. Her jaw clenched and again her teeth dug on the wall of her mouth, wishing she could rid her mouth of the taste of blood, though a startled shout from someone—was it Sirius? —forced her attention upward and slightly towards her left, and what she saw made her blood freeze.

Her joy at having reached the roof was incredibly short-lived, for outside near the edge of the rooftop's ledge stood her protector, her…whatever Black was to her, they'd not had that discussion before the shit really hit the fan, and the one who unknowingly held her heart, standing over a beaten and broken Everett, stained in blood and his shoulders heaving for a calm release, his wand pointed squarely at the man's broad chest.

The guy's sister was in the middle screaming a tearful bloody murder at Black to stop it, that he was _killing_ him, and in her wild hysteria, was barely held back by her husband, a handsome bloke with a thick head of wild jet-black hair, pale skin and the pair of most brilliant crystalline blue eyes she'd ever seen in another human being before.

She swore out of the corner of her eyes she saw Lupin and Tonks's faces pale in shock and their eyes go wide at the sight, and Renee didn't even have to turn her head to look at her friends to imagine that they saw her as a ghost.

Oh, but they _were_ seeing one. Renee barely stifled her tiny smile as one threatened to escape past her cracked and bleeding lips, though another hoarse, raw, unbridled scream from Black quickly drew her attention back front.

The dark-haired former convict of the same prison Tonks had been sent to stepped even closer and steadily raised his wand a fraction of an inch higher, prepared to deliver whatever final killing jinx or blow that will end it.

Her heart felt like it stopped and raw panic swept over her like a darkened shadow. Seeing Sirius like this made her cower as she wracked her brain for what to do to help.

There was a horrible ringing on her ears and in her head was a strange dissonance of tolling death bells. She started to shiver even worse than before and her chest tightened while her breathing trembled.

Renee was hardly aware of Lupin coming over and setting a hand on her shoulder, an incredulous look of shock and awe on his face at seeing her alive and walking around. But horror was the only spirit left in her blue eyes.

She could not let Sirius do this, no matter how much of a monster Everett really was.

Black would surely regret it for the rest of his life, taking another man's life like this. Exhaling a shaking breath, she steeled herself, and summoned every ounce of breath left within her heaving lungs to muster, hoping it would be enough.

" **SIRIUS, STOP!** " she screamed, and stepped forward.

* * *

Through the raging darkness of his own mind, a familiar woman's face called his name, begging for him to stop it.

But his thoughts and emotions warred so horribly within him like a black tempest, his mind having become so clouded that he couldn't tell who the voice belonged to.

Was it Norah? Was it Tonks? Which one of them was it?

His anger and rage towards Everett had escalated past the point of no return, and from this, there was no coming back.

All he could think of was what the Morning Killer had taken from him. Renee was gone because of him.

He'd _killed_ her. The tiny voice at the back of his mind that spoke of reason and logic had all but faded from him, leaving him with only his loss, rage, and pain, to the point where he thought his heart was nothing but an empty black void, and he was sure to live up to the meaning of his surname, for that was all that was left. Just blackness.

He gritted his teeth and raised his wand, ignoring Norah's sobbing screams to stop, or whoever was pleading with him. Something solid collided hard against his chest, tiny arms wrapping themselves around his middle, gently shoving him back away from Everett's sprawled out form.

Something wet back to drench the front of his maroon velvet coat, causing his nostrils to flare in agitation. Blood.

And a voice. Calling his name. No, scratch that. _Begging_. Whoever it was, whether it was Dora or Tonks, her voice was so frantic and desperate, broken, pleading with him.

" _Don't do it, Black! Put the goddamn wand down! He—he's not worth your own life, put it down, please!_ "

Through the blinding white fog of his own rage, he recognized her voice.

An image of her face flashed through his tormented mind. The image of a young Muggle woman in her mid to late twenties with short cropped shaggy blonde hair. Her eyes were like that of a cloudless blue sky, always shining with barely contained laughter whenever someone told a bad or particularly vulgar joke.

Her nose was dusted with a light smattering of freckles, but it was her smile that had captivated Sirius the most, rendering him almost unable to breathe when Barreau did.

" _He's not worth it! Put down your stupid wand and drop it, Black! Don't kill him, he's not worth it anymore_!"

Her smile was so wide that Sirius wondered how it could possibly be contained on the woman's pale features. Only one woman could put the sun's rays itself to shame with her smile's white brightness and warmth. Renee Barreau.

" _Drop it_!" came the voice again, snapping him out of whatever spell he had been placed under, and the woman's image that had spelled his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and he resisted the urge to growl in utter anger. He wanted it back, even if it was only the memory of Barreau.

" _Please, Sirius_!" The woman's voice had become a whispered plea, as though she had lost what little strength an energy she had left, and it momentarily frightened him.

Dazed and still not quite fully coherent, he looked down angrily at whichever one of them, whether it was Everett's sister or Tonks herself, ready to unleash his wrath on them, angry that they were keeping him from killing him.

Then he realized who it was that had spoken his name so softly while staring down Death himself with an icy glare.

As his awareness slowly dawned, he felt his face drain of colors and the blood run cold in his veins before freezing, and his breath caught in his throat. It wasn't Tonks or even Norah who had called out to him, begging with him.

For the first time since he had entered into Everett's safe house, so intent on his path forward, terror seized his heart. Her arms wound tightly around his middle, pressed firmly against his chest, Sirius saw the site most precious to him in all the world, Renee Barreau's pale, beautiful face peering up at him with fresh tear tracts running from her lids. He was sure he was dreaming.

"You're… _alive_?" he gasped, feeling his pale grey-blue irises go wide in shock. Renee stared up at him, her face and blonde hair streaked with dust and blood and Merlin knew what else.

Her gaze was stricken with terror and heartbreak, but held an intense resolve, something he admired in the young blonde Muggle woman. Sirius had seen it there before, a few days after she'd fallen from his damn ceiling.

It was the same resolute look she'd worn when she'd confronted him for yelling at her the night she fell on top of his kitchen table and broke it. She had no idea at the time just how much her words had shamed him into guilt.

He remembered her resolve when she didn't want to leave her brother's body alone without a proper burial. Even now, wounded though she was, her face held the same determined expression he saw within her eyes now.

She had so often shone with an inner strength Barreau didn't even know she had. If Renee had been born a witch, Sirius was more than confident Barreau would have been sorted into Gryffindor Hours when the time came.

Something slipped from his hand, what it was, Sirius didn't know, nor did he care. He felt his arms move towards her shoulders of their own accord, his brain feeling like it was on auto pilot, still dazed and confused.

"Sirius?" she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, cracking and breaking the moment Renee uttered his name, disbelief sounding within her voice like music to his ears.

Stray tears flowed freely from her lids and for several moments that felt like an eternity to him as Time itself stood still, the world came to a halt as he met her gaze. In those moments, something unspoken but powerful passed between them, what it was, Sirius didn't know or understand, nor could he manage pretending to care now.

Only…that…Renee had saved his life, from the blackness of his own heart. He'd been about to murder Everett in cold blood when he was already down for count, beaten.

That much he could understand. Yet, Renee had managed to stop him doing it. Somehow, yet again, in his most dangerous state of mind as he'd allowed his fiery temper to take over while his heart was filled with the fiercest pain and anger that put all his other past episodes to shame, even worse than the time he'd ruined the Fat Lady's portrait when he'd slunk into Hogwarts to look for Peter, Renee had stopped him from killing Everett.

Something black moved off to the right of his peripherals, a movement so fast it was almost a blur, and Sirius barely had time to register what was happening.

He gritted his teeth as realization dawned on him. His wand. Merlin damn it, he'd dropped his damn wand!

Whirling around on the heels of his boots, Sirius flung an arm out in front of Renee, and as he did so, the monster, Everett, stalked towards them, Sirius's fallen wand now clutched in his hand, a cry of rage on his lips.

Sirius watched in horror as the danger to Renee grew. He would die before he'd allow the Morning Killer anywhere near Barreau again. He'd lost her the once and had come dangerously close to losing her forever, he was not about to lose the young woman again a second time. Sirius did not hesitate to wrap Renee in his arms and shield her body with his own, just as Everett chose that moment, when the man would be unable to fight back against him to charge.

The Morning Killer stalked forward, wand raised, though as he lifted his wand and prepared to utter the last and worst of the Unforgiveable Curses, the Killing Curse, his wand was flown from his hand and from the length of Mad-Eye-Moody's wand sprung a length of iron wrought chains as Moody and Remus bounded forward, eager to protect their fellow Order member, friend, and his love.

"It's _over_ , boy, give it up, and don't even think about rabbiting off again for a third bloody time, kid, you're _finished_. You'll commit no more murders, boy," Moody growled in his rough, grating voice, holding his wand defensively in front of him as Everett thrashed in his chains and made a horrible, bellowing noise like that of an enraged Chinese Fireball.

"You don't have anything left, Everett. You've _lost_ ," Lupin answered in a steady, calm voice, though Sirius wasn't fooled.

He detected the slight warbling note of fear within Remus's voice, and Sirius realized just how badly the event had shaken Moony and rocked him to his core. His wife stepped forward, brushing a lock of her pink hair out of the way, her own wand raised squarely at Everett's broad chest, the corners of her mouth tilting up in a wry smile.

Tonks piped up with her own quip.

"You're surrounded, Everett. You have nowhere to run. Now we can do this easy way, here you come quietly and don't make a fuss, or the hard way. Personally, I'd _much_ prefer the easier way, wouldn't you? It will be easier for you."

Everett did not answer Tonks, his gaze flitting to Norah, who was still wildly struggling against her husband's ironclad grip.

Ollie was looking upon the man with an emotionless expression, thought the man's own blue eyes were lit with such a burning hatred that would have caused anyone to recoil from the hardened Auror's gaze.

Everett would find no sympathy with him or anyone else currently present on the rooftop, except perhaps…for her.

"Sister," he begged, swallowing down past the lump in his throat. " _Please_ …" he pleaded, blinking back his tears. "Have mercy on me. Don't let me be at the mercy of the Dementors," he implored, his eyes wide with a pleading.

"I..." Norah faltered, her voice cracking, and it seemed to take her an eternity to find her voice as she turned around to look at the others with such a heartbreaking look of despair, the others almost couldn't handle it and had to look away. "Let me come with you," Norah pleaded, turning her tear-filled blue eyes to Moody, Lupin, and Ollie, all of whom stepped forward with their wands raised at her brother. "I…I'd like to…to say goodbye," she whispered, her voice cracking and breaking as she blinked back tears.

Ollie halted in his steps, taken aback by his wife's strange request.

And he wasn't the _only_ one. Tonks and Lupin shot one another quizzical but wary looks, as did Moody and Sirius.

What puzzled the Auror and Legilimens even further was Norah did not look directly at him as she voiced her request.

"Let me _go_ , Ollie," she begged faintly. This time, Norah _did_ turn to look at him, her sky blue eyes solemn and serious. There was something else behind him, but what that thing was he could not place.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Moody briefly lift his wand and summon his Patronus, either sending it off to Azkaban to alert the new Warden to expect an incoming prisoner or to the Ministry to tell him they had Everett.

"I…I…Norah, baby, that's not a good idea, sweetheart…" Ollie's voice trailed off, sparing an uneasy but hate-filled glance towards Everett, who was now looking at his sister with a blank expression.

He was the _last_ person Ollie wanted Norah even _remotely_ close to right now. Especially after what he'd done to Sirius's woman, who was to say he wouldn't turn around and try to do the same thing to his own sister?!

Though when the Legilimens turned back to his wife, her pale face was set in determination and her blue eyes held a horrible sort of pleading that he'd never seen in her.

Norah very rarely asked him for _anything_ , and Ollie felt his chest tighten and constrict for several minutes as his conscience waged war with itself, unwilling to concede out of fear that Everett would harm his wife or someone else.

Though he felt he could not deny his wife this one request. Like it or not, Everett was still her brother.

" _Fine_ ," he sighed heavily, reluctance thick in his voice, that was so quiet, that none but Norah could hear him.

She offered him a slight incline of her head and knelt on the ground in front of her brother, reaching out a trembling hand to caress Everett's cheek with a painstaking tenderness and affection that was painful to look at.

Ollie felt a muscle in his jaw tense as he looked away, thinking that he wasn't sure he could stomach this. He let out a tired sigh as his gaze fell to Sirius and the young blonde Muggle whose mind he had invaded.

"You'll be fine here by yourselves?" Ollie asked, already sure of the answer.

A curt nod from Sirius, though Black never once tore his gaze away from Renee, one of his fingers stroking her cheek, and Ollie didn't move until he felt a delicate hand reach up to grip his right shoulder. He didn't even have to look to know that Tonks, Merlin bless her soul, had moved to stand alongside him, and Remus in addition.

"They'll be fine," Tonks whispered soothingly, though she raised her voice as she shifted her gaze to look at her cousin. "Renee needs to be taken to St. Mungo's, Sirius."

"We'll meet you there," Sirius answered in a quiet, subdued voice, yet again, unable to pull his gaze from Renee. Tonks smiled as she felt Lupin nudge beside her.

She turned her head to the right and craned her neck up to look at Lupin, instinctively reaching for her husband's hand.

"Let's give them a moment," Tonks whispered, echoing her husband's words from earlier, though this time, a genuine smile cracked along her tired, pale face.

Lupin nodded his agreement, a smile of his own flitting across his heavily scarred face, and he returned her hand hold with a light squeeze, before turning to the others and helping Moody and Ollie wrestle Everett to his feet.

It did not escape his attention that Norah held the end of the length of chain bound in her hands, looking incredibly hurt but determined to see her brother face his justice.

"Do you feel ready?" he asked Norah and was not surprised when the young blonde witch and werewolf slowly swiveled her gaze in his direction, numbly nodding.

"Yes. It's…is the only way, Mr. Lupin, sir. I _know_ what has to be done," she whispered, and looking towards the two Aurors Ollie and Moody for confirmation, the moment the pair of wizards nodded, she did not hesitate to turn on the heel of her black boots and Disapparate with Everett at her whims and mercy to escort him to Azkaban, where he belonged, though first, they needed to secure him into a maximum security ward at St. Mungo's for treatment.

Sirius did not even flinch upon hearing the loud resounding _crack_! of the group Disapparating from the rooftop with Everett in tow, too focused on Renee in front of him, marveling at the softness of the girl's cheek.

He knew he needed to do as Tonks said and get Renee to St. Mungo's to heal her wounds, but in his mind, he wanted a moment longer to linger. He did not want to lose her again, he realized, his pained face realizing the realization of what had nearly happened to the woman he now knew himself to be hopelessly, desperately mad for.

"Barreau," he whispered in a hoarse, raspy voice, taking her delicate face in his large, calloused, rough hands. "You—you were almost _killed_." Now that the two of them were alone on the rooftop, Sirius did not bother to stem the fearful tears brimming in his eyes as he looked at her, patiently waiting for her to say what was on her mind.

She scoffed slightly as she reached up a shaking finger and brushed away at the single tear that escaped Sirius's right eye. "Save your tears, Black. You should have _told_ me the truth, and maybe I wouldn't have…" She choked back a half-sob, seeming to have trouble following her own advice. " _You_ would have been," Renee answered hotly, equally scared beyond belief at how close she'd come to losing the only man in this world who seemed to give a damn about her. She clutched his gentle hands with her own in a tight vice grip. "I didn't think I could stand to lose you, Black."

Sirius blinked rapidly, fighting back against the onset of a fresh wave of tears as he swallowed past a lump in his throat as it hollowed and constricted, rendering him feeling breathless as he gently, carefully gathered Renee into his arms, trying to be mindful of her wounds and any broken bones or unseen internal injures she might have.

Her soft fingers reached for his face and caressed the scars that he realized she couldn't see, but she felt them.

"I wouldn't have let that happen, Barreau," he reassured her in what he hoped was a soothing enough voice for her.

"I know." Renee nodded gravely, though he swore a hint of a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "You've protected me right from the start, Black," Renee whispered faintly.

"Renee," he uttered, feeling his breaths catch in his throat as he looked at her, not sure he wanted the answer to the question that he was about to ask, but needed it.

"Mmm?" she whispered, her head still nestled against his chest, not quite looking at him, though the young woman was forced to pull apart the second she felt him step away.

"Why do you put up with me?" he asked, and for once, he sounded somber, not at all like his usual jovial self. "You could go back home. Forget me, forget about all of this," he muttered darkly, gesturing towards the rooftop with a sweeping flourish of his arm. "Why haven't you? You should take care of yourself," he muttered hoarsely. "Don't worry about me. Go someplace new, live a good life away from all these memories that will only hurt you."

Renee furrowed her brows in a frown, not sure she liked the sudden shift in the man's voice.

"Why are you talking like this?" she whispered, feeling a sudden stab of fear prick at her heartstrings as she looked down at her ruined dress and letting out a hiss of breath as a sharp, white-hot flare of pain jolted up her side. " _I'm_ the one that almost died tonight, Black, not you. You're talking like you're the one that's about to die, Sirius, what gives?"

Sirius smiled sadly, his eyes half-shutting as he continued his tender caressing of her cheek, before moving his hand upward to settle in the back of her short blonde tresses.

"Maybe I already have," he said, his voice turning deeper, slyer, slightly huskier, but now much calmer.

"What do you mean?" Renee uttered, feeling much safer now that Everett was off this damn rooftop as she leaned in as close as she possibly dared, until she was pressed firmly against the man's lean chest, breathing in his scent.

He smelled strangely of candles and old parchment paper, the scent of him was calming to her frayed nerves.

"My heart, Barreau. Last time I checked, I've only got the one, and it doesn't belong to me anymore, so that's it."

"What—" she started to splutter indignantly, though Renee was instantly silenced the moment Black pressed a finger to her lips, effectively shushing her into silence.

"Just let me _have_ this," Sirius begged. "It's more than enough for me, Barreau. I hope that it is for you too."

"What's enough?" Renee whispered, her voice so faint she wasn't even sure she had spoken anything at all to him.

"For you to have my heart, Barreau." He spoke his words so tenderly and in earnest, that made her heart flutter painfully against the confines of her bruised chest. His joy matched hers the moment Sirius saw Renee shoot him a shy little smile, and for the first time since the day she'd fed him one of her café's chocolate muffins and they'd taken that walk to the River Thames together, she saw Sirius Black smile broadly and genuinely at Renee.

"I don't give a damn anymore what anyone else thinks. I don't' care that you're a Muggle, that means nothing to me. I'll protect you, Barreau, but there's a _condition_ to what I'm asking of you. I can only hope that you'll say yes."

"Huh?" Renee blinked owlishly at Sirius, her almond-shaped pale blue irises widening in shock and surprise as the man took a step back, rummaging in the pockets of his coat and held out his hand, uncurling her tightly clenched fist with the other.

She felt something cold and metallic drop into the palm of her outstretched hand as she looked down and her face paled as in her hand was a tiny key. Sirius chuckled at her stunned expression as he reached up a tender hand to swipe a lock of her blonde hair out of her eyes and off her forehead.

"Move in with me, Barreau. Please. _Someone_ needs to look out for you, make sure you don't fall through anymore ceilings. Might as well be me," he joked weakly, though the smile did not reach his eyes. Renee knew the man was dead serious. "I'll have to get Dumbledore to lift a couple of the enchantments to let you find the place without getting _lost_ , but I don't…want to be _away_ from you anymore, I—I can't, so…will you move in with me?" he asked, drawing in a sharp breath of cold air that pained her lungs as he waited with bated breath for Renee to answer.

It seemed to take her an eternity to find her voice, but when she did, only one answer was flitting through her mind, the only answer Renee had left within her to give.

"Yes."

He smiled as he drew Renee closer still and tilted his face to hers, not giving a damn that either one of them looked a right mess and were covered in blood.

Their lips parted and met at last, losing themselves in their second official kiss as they clung to one another, longing for more, and eager to begin their new life together now that it was over, the mess with Everett being out in the open again. Sirius and Renee stood entwined on the darkness on top of the roof, healed and complete, even if it weren't physically, at least, not yet.

He reached for her, his heart full, and his head clear for the first time in a long time, he started to feel things again. _Good_ things. Renee met Sirius with certainty and clarity as she pressed her lips against his softly and promised a happy future. The kiss they shared was just the beginning of better things to come, of a life of joy and love to follow.

And Renee and Sirius decided they'd trade it for nothing. That each other was perfectly flawed for the other, and that was more than okay for the both of them.


	40. Chapter 40

It had taken seven Aurors when Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Ollie, and Norah had Apparated to St. Mungo's ward for the high-security risks to restrain him with a pair of magical handcuffs to his bed.

The moment Everett's sister had witnessed her brother take five Stunning Spells straight to the chest it took everything in the young blonde witch and werewolf not to burst into hysterics.

Her lower lip trembled slightly and her heart rate, evident by the relentless beating of her heart against its cage of bone and cartilage, increased rapidly until she thought it might likely grow wings and fly right out.

She'd asked the Aurors standing guard outside Everett's door, one of them Tonks, if she could see him, and was immediately refused, though Norah knew she still had a chance to see him before she herself was released.

The staff here, the Healers at St. Mungo's all loved Norah for her valuable insight she provided on how to treat werewolf bites, and the Aurors respected her too, considering Tonks was her best friend and Ollie worked alongside Tonks within the Auror Department.

The Senior Undersecretary, that old hag who favored bright pink and had passed the Anti-Werewolf Legislation Law, had questioned her relentlessly for the better part of an hour and a half after slipping Veritaserum into her tea.

The only thing Madame Umbridge would tell her was that Everett was placed in a high-security private ward of the medical hospital, away from her, to be taken into custody.

She'd said little else once she took down Norah's statement, though the scathing looks and sniffs of disapproval were more than enough for Norah Brennan to know just exactly what it was that she thought of her kind, though Dolores Jane Umbridge offered no snide remarks, for which Norah was grateful.

Her temper was already tested as it was.

Umbridge had left her alone to her own devices, though before she had, Norah's wolfish hearing had perked up when the stout short old hag had paused outside of Norah's hospital room door to offer her condolences and an apology to Auror Tonks for having mistakenly arrested her for the crimes she didn't commit.

When she'd first woken up in the hospital, Norah had been more than a little confused and disoriented after allowing one of the St. Mungo's Healer's to accidentally slip her a Calming and a Sleeping Draught into her tea, and she had two Aurors (not Tonks, thank Merlin!) shouting questions at her.

The Healer, and Auror's Runcorn and Dunkirk, all wanting to know what she did, if she had helped her brother in any way, if she had communicated with the man, why she'd not gone to authorities.

She hardly had the mental clarity to tell them what to expect from Everett, and she made sure to tell them that the man only had a knife and his wand on his person.

The Aurors seemed surprised when she'd delved into her past history with their abusive father, and her somewhat unorthodox, protective relationship with her brother. Their magical quills had scribbled 'possessiveness' into their notebooks that had been enchanted to take notes and witness statements of their own accord.

She had violently objected, telling those bastards that didn't understand that they did not know what it was like, that Everett, aside from her husband, Ollie, and Tonks, her only best friend in the world, was the only one who cared about a wolf-like her, the reporters didn't know what it meant to have someone care for her in the way that Everett had looked out for her, even going as far as to take care of their father, though she'd never wanted Dad dead.

The questions lasted thirty minutes or so and then an hour in Dolores Umbridge's company before she was allowed to rest again, and then picked up every hour or so.

Norah's wolfish hearing perked up upon hearing dozens of what sounded like reporters clamoring in the hallway, only dispersing upon hearing Moody's gruff barks, and Tonks's threats to jinx any reporter with a well-aimed Bat Bogey Hex or a Tongue-Engorging Charm if any one of them stepped within ten feet of Norah Brennan or Everett's rooms.

Matters were only made worse for her when Rita Skeeter showed up, peering through the doorway at her over the rims of her dark green crocodile patterned glasses, but Tonks's mentor, Moody, came to her aid and moved her away from the door with one sharp jab of his walking stick.

"You leave that family _alone_ , Skeeter, their story's too dark for your ruddy gossip column, isn't it? And you know it, don't you," he growled, narrowing his one good eye at Rita Skeeter. "You ask her your questions, and you're gonna wish that girl in there never said," he'd barked in his gruff baritone. "That family's suffered _enough_. She doesn't need your hounding right now. Move along, before I call for more security, Rita."

Norah couldn't hear what the gossip columnist said in response, but Moody's threat was enough to goad her into leaving, and as she did, the blonde werewolf shot Moody a silently grateful look with her bright eyes, trying to thank him.

Norah couldn't be sure, but she swore, she was sure, the grizzled old Auror winked at her, the only one who he allowed into her room was her husband and Auror Tonks.

Her husband shot her a smile, though it was obvious to his wife that it was strained, not reaching his blue eyes.

He held out his hands and silently conjured a single white lily with his nonverbal magic, setting the delicate little flower in a blue chipped vase that someone, probably one of the Healers, had found for Norah and set on the small side table in hopes of brightening up the starch room a bit.

"Hey, baby," he murmured in his low, husky voice that always sent a chill of tingling pleasure down her spine, as he pulled up the spare chair resting idly in the corner of her hospital room. His tone was pleasant but worried. "It's so good to see you," Ollie said in his quiet voice.

Norah nodded, her throat feeling dry and parched, though before she could stop herself, she propped herself forward, having to use her elbows to do it, to kiss him.

His lips moved slowly across hers, allowing him to drink in the taste of her kiss, her scent flooding his nose.

In truth, if she were being honest with herself, Norah felt like Ollie was the only thing that could heal her at this point, and she hoped that her husband felt the same way.

Ollie, shocked at first, responded in kind, moving his hand up to caress her cheek before pressing back against her skull, his fingers entangling in her short blonde locks. Norah pressed herself firmly against her husband as close as she possibly could, feeling relieved when he moved to sit at the edge of her hospital bedside, unable to stand the distance between them anymore. She glided her tongue along his bottom lip, begging Ollie to let her in.

She threaded her fingers through his messy black hair, his hands traveling up and down her back, his fingers curling into tight fists as they settled on her waist for support, though considering they weren't back in the relative safety and privacy of their own home, he wouldn't take it a step further, though he craved her touch bad enough that it burned, sending warmth through his chest.

They broke apart after what felt like a blissful eternity in heaven, with neither of them wanting their kiss to end, yet they knew it had to, as they both needed fresh oxygen.

Her fingers still clutched onto fistfuls of her husband's sweater, the man had changed out of his official Ministry robes in order to come and support his wife during her time of need almost the second they'd Apparated onto St. Mungo's property.

"Where will we _go_?" she whispered, unable to fight against the stem of tears, nestling her head against Ollie's chest as her husband held her tightly, kissing the top of her hair, rubbing her back, his hand moving slowly in small, comforting circles. "We—we can't _stay_ here, Ol. You _saw_ the reporters, what they'll do to us now," she managed to gasp out in a hoarse, half-choked little sob. "I—I'm not going to subject you to that life. We'll have to move. It won't be long before they'll come for me. Where…where will we…your—your _job_ , how will we…"

But her voice cracked and broke as it trailed off as she forced herself to blink back a fresh onset of hot, stinging tears as she swallowed down a lump in her throat, wanting nothing more than to imagine a life somewhere far, far away, from all of these, beyond the scope of their troubles.

"Nor? Norah, baby, it's fine, sweetheart. I'm right here where I'm sitting, love. I'm not anywhere else. Where you go, I go too. You're…you're _free_ , after…after Everett…."

But Ollie's voice trailed off as a pained expression flitted across his face. He turned away for a moment so his wife wouldn't see the heartbreak glistening as unshed moisture in his crystalline blue eyes before turning his head back around to meet his wife's questioning staring.

"We'll go somewhere, love, don't worry about me. We've got enough in our vault at Gringotts to sustain us for a long time. I don't care what job I have to take, darling, as long as I'm with you, I'm _happy_ , Nor," he promised her in earnest, reaching up and catching Norah's hands in his, giving them a light reassuring squeeze. "Anywhere you want. Someplace where we could live in the country. We could start building the menagerie you've always wanted, baby. Wales, maybe, somewhere where the reporters won't follow us. Maybe…maybe even Romania or somewhere in the mountains. We could stop by to visit Charlie," he joked weakly, referencing one of Tonks's other best friends. "I think he'd like that, and you can pick his brain on how to care for that purple dragon that you've always wanted to own," Ollie said in a light tone.

"I think I'd like that," Norah whispered quietly, her voice so faint that Ollie had to lean in to hear her better, and when he did, her lips met his for another passionate kiss.

She could feel the stubble along with her husband's strong jawline tickle as their kiss deepened, feeling Ollie fight the urge to grin into their kiss, though it was abruptly cut off the moment the door to her hospital room opened.

Both broke apart, Ollie looking highly annoyed at the interruption of the tender moment between husband and wife, their heads swiveling upwards in Moody's direction.

His magical eye was swiveling wildly in all directions.

"Brennan," he barked gruffly, his one good eye remained fixated on Ollie, though it briefly drifted to rest on Norah's tense form propped against her mountain of pillows. "Umbridge is downstairs. She'd like a _word_ , boy."

Ollie gnashed his teeth together in anger. "I'm a little _busy_ at the moment, Moody, can't she get someone else?" He gritted his teeth and whiplashed his head sharply upward in Moody's direction before looking towards Norah. "Do you not see my _wife_? She's _hurting_ , Alastor, I can't _go_ , tell her she can talk to someone _else_ , Moody, I'm staying _here_ ," he barked in a rough and grating voice.

Ollie let out an audible groan of displeasure and fought against the urge to roll his eyes, not wanting to leave his wife's side, and only relented when he felt Norah's hand drift and settle over top of hers, ensuring he could see the yellow glint of her plain wedding ring and gave a tiny nod.

"I'm not going anywhere, Ol," she whispered. " _Go_. Take care of whatever you need to, don't keep Umbridge waiting," she said, and she would have said more, though another Auror and a St. Mungo's Healer trickled in, forcing Ollie out the door and down the hallway to head to the elevator to see whatever it was the Ministry's Senior Undersecretary needed.

Norah asked the Auror, Runcorn, his name was, if Everett would be sent to Azkaban Prison once he'd recovered, and the fact that the man would not give her a straight answer should have been telling enough.

Norah knew her brother had a couple of Aurors outside his door, and that he was heavily drugged on a Calming Draught, from what little Umbridge did feel compelled to disclose to her earlier.

Even five Stunning Spells straight to the chest had trouble slowing him down.

A pair of Aurors stood guard outside her brother's door and that she would only be in the hospital for one more day, for 'observation' before she was released, and Ollie was free to take poor Norah home. She had a stress fracture in her ankle from when Everett had shoved her up on the rooftop of their old townhouse.

She was told when she left, she'd be given a hideous black boot to wear for a few weeks until the bone healed. Norah was also slightly undernourished and rather badly dehydrated. The Healers wanted her to remain in St. Mungo's under observation to get some fluids in her. But Norah knew she had only one more day to get in to see Everett before she had to leave and there was the likely possibility that she would never see Everett again.

It hurt like hell, thinking along those lines, and she felt a horrible little nagging start as a building pressure in her chest. Her eyes swelled up with tears and before she could even fathom what was happening, Norah slid out of her bed, padding out to the hallway, using the crutch they'd given her to help alleviate the weight and stress off her injured ankle.

Tonks and Moody were looking thoroughly less than pleased to see Mrs. Brennan up and walking around, though Tonks said nothing to her old friend. Tonks wasn't about to rat out one of her friends.

Norah knew this, and judging by the look on the pink-haired Auror's face, she knew it too, though the look of immense displeasure in the young witch's flashing grey irises was more than telling enough for Everett's sister.

Norah was respectful and polite as she listened patiently and with respect as Moody launched into an explanation, before shooting the young blonde werewolf a distrusting look before hobbling down the hallway to get Norah's husband to come back and alert the Undersecretary of Everett's condition.

He was to be arrested and brought back to Azkaban Prison under the orders of the new Warden for processing, where he would spend the rest of his life behind bars in a padded cell.

He would not leave the prison alive.

"Tonks," Norah murmured as she rested her back heavily against the wall for support, her knuckles white with the effort to steady herself as she leaned against her crutch for support. "It's good to see you're all right."

"You too," Tonks greeted her friend warmly, though with just the briefest hint of suspicions as she quirked a thin eyebrow in the young blonde witch's direction, before giving a disappointed shake of her head, her eyes drifting to the crutch underneath Norah's arm, murmuring under her breath about how Norah shouldn't be up walking.

Norah shrugged and shifted her crutch under her armpit with a lopsided grin. "Don't tell Ollie, he'll bloody _murder_ me. I—I was wondering if I could ask a favor."

Tonks pursed her lips into a thin line, folding her arms across her chest, though nevertheless, her friend and colleague at the Ministry leaned in, eager to hear her out.

Norah blew out a deep breath before continuing, not sure how her friend was going to react to her request, but knowing it was too late to turn back now. "I need to get into Everett's room, Tonks. _Please_."

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin was looking at Norah Brennan as though her best friend's wife had lost her mind, and perhaps she had, but when the pink-haired witch did not outright refuse her plea, she still clung to a small shard of hope within her chest that she'd still see him.

Norah nervously glanced back towards Moody, who was now knee-deep in conversation with Ollie, hovering in front of the elevator, who was looking thoroughly disgruntled about something, though he always looked like that whenever he was forced to interact with Dolores.

Ollie and Moody were distracted in their own conversation, so if she was going to do this, it was now or never.

Norah glanced back towards Tonks as she thought out her words carefully, knowing the Auror would be risking her job if she did this for her, her status as an old friend notwithstanding, and Tonks had her husband and newborn baby to think about. Norah would understand if Tonks said no.

She did not want to pressure her friend into it, but she also wanted to phrase her request in such a way that Tonks would be more inclined to make her own decision to help her. She looked at Tonks for a few more seconds as she collected her thoughts and thought about what she wanted to say.

When she did speak, her voice was hushed, in a faint whisper, causing Tonks to lean in again.

" _Please_. He's my _brother_ , Tonks. Do it for me. I—I really need to see him, just for a moment, before the Aurors take him. It will make me feel better. Just…stay out here and distract Ollie. He's your best mate, I _know_ you can stall him long enough. I will go into his room, alone. I'll be in my room while you lure Moody and Ollie away. They won't know that you had anything to do with this. If anyone gets into trouble, it's going to be strictly _me_. Not you, Tonks, _never_ you, I promise, I'm _not_ going to let that happen. _Please_. As a _friend_. Will you help me, Dora?"

Tonks sighed, pinching at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, thinking she was really going to hate this, but she'd never been able to turn down a plea for help, especially not from a fellow friend.

"Fine, I'll _do_ it. But you'll _owe_ me one," she grumbled darkly, casting a worried look towards Ollie and Moody. "Go back to your room and I'll keep them away," Tonks mumbled angrily.

Norah thanked her friend as she hobbled back to her hospital room. She waited with bated breath by the door.

The maximum-security ward on the uppermost level of St. Mungo's Hospital was small and very nearly empty at this time of night. It wouldn't be difficult to sneak into Everett's room without any of the staff really knowing.

Norah stifled her triumphant grin as she had no idea what Tonks was saying to Mad-Eye Moody and Ollie, but the two Aurors hurried away with Remus's wife in tow, hurrying down the hallway with looks of panic on their face.

No doubt Tonks was sure to catch seven shades of holy hell from Ollie once he learned his best friend had tricked the two of them, and from Moody too, though Norah thought Tonks was strong enough to handle it.

Norah wasted no time in leaving her room and moving towards her brother's room that Moody had been assigned to guard, alongside her husband, though Ollie was admittedly having trouble keeping guard, wanting nothing more than to be by Norah's side during all this.

She was utterly terrified as she moved down the hallway, her heart beating erratically in her chest violently. She did not want to face Everett.

Not really, not after the things that he'd done. She knew her brother would be angry with her, but she also wondered if she would see any pain's in the older man's eyes if he was awake and cognizant enough to open them after taking a Calming Draught.

She didn't think they'd keep him drugged the entire time he was here before the Ministry came for him.

Norah could only pray that he'd be still and calm.

She wanted the chance to explain everything to the man, to let her brother know that, despite what he'd done, she couldn't manage to bring herself to hate Everett and that she didn't _want_ to do this to him, but it was the only way.

There was no other choice. She couldn't let her brother kill anyone else. Letting someone, innocent _kids_ be murdered and doing almost nothing to stop it was wrong.

Norah opened the door to his room gingerly, to find his hospital room was nearly pitch black, with no lights on at all. The curtains of his windows had been pulled shut, and the lights were off, shrouding Everett's hulking form in the darkness.

A man of the shadows, where he belonged.

Norah reached out nervously and flicked on the light, her eyes searching for her brother's form on top of the bed. She saw him tucked underneath the stiff blankets, on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Both his wrists were handcuffed to the bed with two sets of enchanted handcuffs, judging by the faint blue glow they emitted. She approached his bedside slowly, the sound of her crutch tucked underneath her left arm making a soft audible thumping noise in the otherwise silent room, but Everett did not stir.

"Everett?" Norah asked softly, and his head jerked slightly upon her hearing her soft voice smoother than silk flow through the room like a gentle breeze. "Oh, _Everett_ , I…I…" She went over to his side, gritting her teeth with the effort to kneel on her knees, tossing aside her stupid crutch, touching her brother's hands, despite the rational side of her screaming not to. Everett did not respond, much less look at his sister. "What was I supposed to _do_ , Ev?" Norah begged her older brother with a hushed voice that sounded near tears. "I—I didn't _want_ to, Everett, you—you _know_ that, love."

Norah squeezed onto her brother's hand, wanting Everett to squeeze it back, but he didn't even flinch.

She felt hot tears prick at the corners of her lids and unexplainable guilt and an immense sadness wash over her. The emotional pain she felt for Everett was real.

"Ev, just…just please tell me you aren't mad at me, please," she begged, sniffling as she turned her head to the side to cough once to fight against the lump in her throat.

Norah patted Everett's hand with one of hers and held his palm firmly with the other, trying to ignore the fact that both of her hands were bandaged, though speckles of blood could still be seen seeping through the faint gauze.

"Everett, we—we _had_ to. _I_ had to. You...you've _killed_ people. _Kids_ , Ev. Everett, please, look at me, Ev!" She could feel herself starting to grow angry when her brother continued to stare numbly up at the ceiling.

She squeezed onto his hand more firmly, shaking the man gently to try to get Everett to look her in her eyes.

" _Answer_ me, Ev," Norah commanded her brother, her bright blue eyes hardening in anger, leaning up slightly and trying to get her older brother to meet her piercing gaze.

But his green eyes remained blank as he stared at the ceiling. Sometimes, Everett would blink, but more than that, the man remained silent. _Silent_. She'd get no response.

"I'm sorry, Everett," Norah whispered. "I _had_ to."

_That_ did it. That was enough to inspire a response. His head jerked upright, and Norah watched as his jaw clenched, more emotion on her brother's face than she had ever seen before. His lip curled into a twisted snarl, though before her brother could part open her lips to speak, the door to Everett's room burst open, and Auror Runcorn and Ollie barged in, looking furious at Tonks tricking him and his wife getting one over on him, taking her away from her brother.

Norah burst into tears, a horrible knot churning in the pit of her nauseous belly.

She cursed her brother one moment, and then begged his forgiveness the next, and finally, she was yanked towards the door, her husband's tempered grip on her waist. She dug the heels of her black ankle boots firmly into the floor beneath her boots, but it did her no good.

Norah felt _sick_. Sick due to missing her brother, and sick because she missed this monster, this murderer, this child killer. It was disgusting, she knew, to feel this way for him.

" **NO**!" she screamed, wildly fighting tooth and nail the more she was dragged backward away from her brother. "They...can't do this! Let me go, I...have to...say goodbye!" she shouted, grunting with the effort to free herself.

"Stop—fighting—me—Norah!" Ollie panted, still struggling to restrain his wife. "It's safer this way, baby! I—I don't want you seeing this, sweetheart! It will only hurt you!" But his wife was beyond the point of being reasoned within her wild hysteria.

" **LET ME GO, OLLIE**! _Don't—don't let them take him like this_!" Norah screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring if her mass hysteria brought an entire team of Aurors and St. Mungo's Healers running to her aid.

Her face paled and drained in shock, tears streaming down her cheeks as the familiar clacking of the Senior Undersecretary's hot pink heels caused Norah's wolfish hearing to perk up at the new noise, followed by the occasional pleading protest of Tonks. Tonks trailed behind Umbridge, looking ticked.

Tonks was clutching at a stitch in her side and looking winded. "You—you _cannot_ do this, Madame Undersecretary, he—he hasn't even been given a fair trial or read his rights! This is highly irregular and has to be ten kinds of _illegal_!" Tonks bellowed, her face paling in shock and outrage, though whatever she had been about to say next died on her tongue as her gaze raked over the room and settled on the struggling figures of her best mate and his hysterical wife.

"Tonks," murmured Ollie in a hushed voice, though his eyes never left his wife's brother's almost lifeless, catatonic form on the bed, "Will you _please_ you take my wife back to her room? I don't want her seeing something like this, T, _please_?" he asked, to which Dora nodded mutely and moved to take Norah gingerly by the arm to escort her back to her room.

But Norah somehow, by a miracle of Merlin, managed to jab Ollie in the side with the crook of her elbow and get him to relinquish his grasp on her, and she bolted towards her brother's bedside as though her life depended on him.

Her agonizing, heart-wrenching screams split the air as Tonks and Ollie darted forward and tried to separate the two siblings, though to no avail. Tonks gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, hating that it had come to this.

Tonks raised her wand squarely at Norah Brennan's chest and stunned her, and the effect was almost instantaneous as Norah went limp, allowing Ollie to rush forward help his wife, helping his wife to sit upright, kneeling into a crouch by her side, rocking her limp form in his arms, waiting for her to regain consciousness soon.

Norah, despite her temporary immobility to move at all, was getting such a bad headache that she had to force herself to swallow back the bile that rose up to her throat. She knew Ollie was holding her, she could hear him whispering sweet nothings into the shell of her ear, trying to reassure her that everything was going to be all right.

She knew Everett was in the room with her, but she couldn't force her gaze to look up at her brother, not only because she was ashamed and afraid of failing Everett, but she knew if she looked, she'd be sick all over the floor here.

Norah moaned as she helplessly begged Merlin or her grandparents or whoever was up there looking out for her to take the pain away, and keep her and her husband safe, pressing her face into the comforting fabric of Ollie's thick black woolen sweater that felt like real sheepskin, so _soft_. Her wolfish hearing perked up at the sound of something horribly rattling like it was struggling to breathe.

A cold chill wafted down her spine that she knew had nothing to do with the freezing cold temperatures.

_Oh, gods, not that…anything but that. They can't do this to him…_ **NO**! her mind screamed at her to open her lips, though the effect of Tonks's Stunning Spell had yet to wear off and Norah was still unable to speak beyond a little moan.

She supposed she ought to have been thankful Norah had managed to sneak in to speak to him before this. It might be the only comfort that she could offer herself. Unbeknownst to her, Everett stirred on top of his bed, through his half-closed lids, he could dimly see the slender form of the pink-haired little bitch that had arrested his son.

_Tonks_. The witch was holding her wand aloft, pointing it directly between his eyes. The Morning Killer couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard the familiar sounds of a pair of clacking heels and Umbridge's disgruntled voice speaking to Aurors Runcorn and Tonks in a clipped tone. She sounded furious beyond belief.

One witch was angry and insistent, the other sounding defensive and tired, though Everett was having trouble distinguishing which soft voice belonged to which witch.

He forced his lids open, curling his lips upward into a twisted sneer, finding himself face to face with Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and Auror Tonks-Lupin, both of them looking revolted.

"Merlin's Beard, what on Merlin's green earth," gasped Dolores in a truly shocking voice as her gaze flitted from the Morning Killer magically handcuffed to his hospital bed, before turning her gaze towards the man's sister, still kneeling on her knees in the room, her husband behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, silently urging Norah not to look at her brother.

Tonks stood directly behind Umbridge, crinkling her nose in a look of disgust as she stared belligerently at Dolores angrily. "I _told_ you, Madame Umbridge, the night that you falsely arrested me under trumped-up charges that I had _nothing_ to do with those murders, and here lies your proof," she hissed coldly down the back of her neck.

"And what, Merlin pray tell me, Auror Tonks, do you suggest I do with him?" Umbridge spluttered in a high-pitched tone.

Tonks and Moody and Ollie all exchanged exasperated looks, knowing the short, stout witch to be known for her cruelty, and the familiar feeling of cold sent a collective chill of dread down her spine as the three realized what she'd brought with her as the ice began to form at the hinges of the door, the horrible rattling noise growing louder.

Tonks was the first one to speak, and when she did, her voice was shaking with rage, poison dripping from her words.

"Madame Undersecretary, you can't do this!" she shouted, her fingers of her wand hand curling into a fist as it shook slightly. "The man is bound and has all of our wands trained on him. Everett's not going anywhere, and what of his sister, you could really do that to her?! He deserves a trial! Hold a hearing in front of the Wizengamot, but he deserves to be tried for his crimes! Let the jury decide what to do, you haven't the power to make that call, Umbridge!" Tonks shouted angrily.

Umbridge sniffed and took a cautious step towards Everett's bed, warily glancing up at Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin as she did so and focused a stern gaze on the witch.

"My dear lady," Dolores began in what she hoped was a polite enough tone, "I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic _himself_. I may do whatever I see necessary to ensure _my_ safety and the safety of the wizarding and non-magical community alike. He _cannot_ be left alive, not even behind bars in Azkaban Prison, this man is a _menace_ , danger to society."

"Give _this_ to the man, Umbridge, and the quicker we get it over with, the better," Moody barked, hobbling forward, and shoving a flask of what smelled suspiciously like Veritaserum under her crinkled nose. "I believe you're _familiar_ with this particular _brew_ , _aren't_ you, Dolores?" he growled, angrily referring to when the old hag had slipped the truth potion into the tea during her time as Hogwarts High Inquisitor to interrogate the students. "Interrogate Everett. Allow this bastard to tell you how he murdered those poor Muggle souls. Let him tell you of how he killed Barreau's brother and would have killed Blondie too if Sirius and the rest of us hadn't intervened!" Moody barked in a clipped tone.

"That's absolute _rubbish_. He's not in his right state of mind, dearie, what _more_ could this man possibly tell us?" Umbridge answered in a simpering, high-pitched giggle that sent a chill down Tonks's spine. "Hmm? Pray to tell."

"How do you explain those murders, Madame Undersecretary, or that surely, the staff and warden of Azkaban Prison knew that he was behind it, considering the allegations against him towards the treatment of the younger, female inmates, and nothing was done to stop him! How on earth do you plan to explain it to the Wizengamot without his testimony, Madame Undersecretary?" Tonks yelled.

Umbridge faltered backward, clearly taken aback by the young Auror's rage and incredulity in her otherwise quiet tones and the hostile way she was holding her wand, then she merely shook her head in denial and plastered another falsely-sweet smile onto her face.

"You're not _listening_! You should hear what the man has to say first before _killing_ him!" Moody barked, having had his fill of Madame Umbridge's blatant denial.

He uncorked the flagon he kept buried in his tattered brown jacket pocket, cupped Everett's jaw firmly in his hand, and poured the disgusting truth potion down his throat, ignoring Norah's brother's coughing, spluttering gasps.

But Moody forced him to swallow it a second too late, just as the last drop of potion tumbled out of his flagon, it arrived, sending a wave of cold and ice throughout the room, causing every to shiver in fear.

A _dementor_. The Dark creature glided into the room slowly and methodically, like a phantasm. The wretch was chilling, slimy, its bony scabbed hands would haunt Norah's nightmares for the rest of her life, she was sure.

" _You cannot do this_!" Tonks shouted, stepping forward, though was held back from approaching by Moody, who shot his protégé an admonishing look with his one good eye and gave a pointed shake of his head.

"Is there _really_ no other way?" Ollie shouted, sounding beside himself with rage at what Umbridge was doing, though his tone was laced to the brim with heartbreak for his wife, who he was adamant about not looking, as he buried his wife's head underneath his chin and kept the back of his hand planted firmly in her hair.

He did not want to her see what was about to happen.

The Dementor's Kiss was nearly unbearable to witness, and for it to happen to her own bloody brother, was a tragedy. But Umbridge, despite Tonks's plea, and Ollie's begging that there had to be another way to do it.

" _Take him_."

Just a one-word command uttered coldly from Umbridge's thin, wormy lips, and without warning.

Tonks froze, her face draining of color as the creature pulled down its hood and the dementor swooped in, its empty black eye sockets were momentarily revealed to her, as well as a gaping hole where its mouth should have been.

Her only consolation that could assuage her guilt at not being able to stop Umbridge from doing this, was that Sirius wasn't here to see this for himself. Though Everett was a monster, it would surely kill him to witness this.

She'd gone downstairs earlier to check on them, Renee's wounds having been treated, and Sirius had informed her that Barreau was coming back to Grimmauld Place and staying with him, for good this time.

Tonks had smiled, happy her cousin had managed to find a small semblance of peace in the young Muggle, though any previously good feelings she'd felt dissipated as she witnessed the horror unfolding in front of her.

The hovering, rasping Dementor dove down on Everett like a vulture attacking its prey and clamped its jaws onto its victim's mouth. Tonks gasped in horror, the Patronus she'd conjured with the intent to ward the creature off spluttered and died the moment her concentration broke.

Tonks tried again in vain to conjure it, though the truly unbearable sight before her wasn't allowing her to concentrate on anything but this. She could faintly hear Ollie pleading with Norah through a broken, tear-filled voice not to look as he soothingly whispered into her ear.

" _No! Don't do this, baby, don't look at it_. _Look at me_ ," Ollie murmured, his voice raised to ensure his wife heard over her screams, cradling his wife's head in his hands, forcing Norah to meet his gaze, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, against her better judgment, she looked, wanting to see her older brother one last time.

Norah looked, and immediately wished she hadn't. Norah shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, embracing her thrusting shoulders as a series of memories rolled through her head. Her father's voice.

_Perhaps…I could be crueler to you still, little dove_.

She'd never felt such a horrible, engulfing coldness, such shivering, such revolt, and self-disgust inside her before. Her body went limp, her mind rioted with desperation to know what she'd done to deserve this, to watch her only sibling suffer a fate worse than death.

Norah had lost the last family member she'd ever cared for, the only blood relative in her life that had given a damn. Despite Ollie's soothing words whispered in the shell of her ear, begging her, pleading with her not to look, she couldn't manage to tear her gaze away from the horrific sight in front of her.

She'd seen many awful things. She was, after all, a _wolf_ , but nothing like _this_.

Tears still pouring from her lids and showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, Norah began to scream.

* * *

Everett felt… _cold_. Cold, dread, and an incorrigible amount of fear.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd genuinely felt afraid quite like this. Maybe the day his Helen died. His wife had been the only one besides his sister able to keep the demons at bay. Though in his mind, he could hear Helen pleading for him to make her hurting stop, to heal his cancer, and he couldn't.

Though now, as he stared blindly into the face of the demonic wretch, this foul creature cursed to walk the earth, of Death itself, he trembled, letting out a shaky breath as the Dementor's jaws clamped around his mouth, with the monster's hideously scarred, bony hands groping at his shoulders, sending ice down his spine.

He could _hear_ things. A woman. His _sister_. Sweet Norah, who'd deserved a much better life than this. Screaming. Crying. Hearing his father shouting at them.

Whether or not they were in the room alongside him, he couldn't tell. The only thing he knew at the moment was the cold, the sorrow, the heartbreak. _Fear_. For a moment he could hear nothing as the woman's screaming voice died, tapering down to sobs. He heard nothing but the roaring of the blood in his own eardrums.

He felt as though a waterfall of pitch-black darkness was raining down on him, engulfing him. With one last surge of strength, dying and feeble though it was, Everett managed to open his eyes and looked this time, not into the eyes of the wretched creature taking away his life force with every rattling inhale as it quite literally was sucking his life away, but into the eyes of a young blonde witch kneeling on the floor across the room, shuddering and sobbing in fear.

Everett looked at Norah closely, his dear sweet sister, and with his last breath, he whispered the soft words that were meant for his sister and for Norah _alone_.

" _I'm sorry_ …"

It was going to have to be enough. He closed his eyes the moment's Norah's face crumpled, accepting his fate, though the one final scream that escaped his lips could not be held back, though he tried.

A moment later, his thoughts left him, and his body gave one final violent shudder, his arm jerking his handcuffs with a loud, rattling clank before he collapsed against the mattress of the St. Mungo's hospital bed, his pale green irises staring at the ceiling, conveying nothing.

No emotion. His eyes reflected no light whatsoever as if he were gazing into a darkened chasm. He was not aware of a petite blonde werewolf scrambling out of her husband's ironclad grip, shuddering in horror and regret before collapsing on her knees to cry over her brother who'd suffered a fate worse than death at the hands of the Dementor's Kiss.

He did not hear his sister's agonizing screams.

* * *

Less than an hour after the Morning Killer's demise at the hands of a Dementor, while Tonks and Moody helped Ollie escort a heavily sedated Norah back to their home, it took four officers to pry her away from her brother's body.

Tonks had to be the one to raise her wand against Everett's unresponsive form and send the final Unforgivable Curse straight to his chest, ending Norah's suffering at seeing her brother like this, despite it going against her code as an Auror not to kill, Renee Barreau woke up in the same place she'd fallen asleep.

In Sirius's arms, sans her clothes, completely shameless, their clothing lay forgotten and discarded somewhere in a crumpled heap in the corner of his bedroom.

Her body pressed against Sirius's searing hot flesh, feeling like it was utterly scorching hot. Her head was resting in the crook of his shoulder, her bare leg draped over his thigh, her left hand resting above the man's steadily beating heart.

She'd been so exhausted from her narrow escape of death yet again a second time, though so engulfed in the passions of being reunited with a man she thought she would never see again, that she'd not given much thought to just how tired she was until they'd finished.

Sirius hadn't slept. He'd lain awake watching Renee sleep for the better part of a half-hour, maybe more.

He reveled and drank in the sheer pleasure of her body entwined with his, a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, though he wouldn't trade it for anything else, how strands and stray wisps of her short blonde hair tickled the growing stubble of his beard along his jawline.

The melody of her slow, rhythmic breathing felt to him like it calmed his troubled soul, made him feel almost reborn again. It was new to him. But he wanted her. Needed it.

Whatever time it was, it was way too early, with Renee being forced from her deep sleep by the feeling of Sirius's body shuddering in the darkness of his room.

Renee's eyelids fluttered open as a vent of panic flooded through her system.

_What the bloody hell?!_

The young blonde had no idea what the hell was happening. Was he…was he _crying_? Had she taken his dream of revenge from him when she'd stopped Sirius from killing Everett, though the man had surely deserved worse than that for causing his cousin and his best mate to suffer so much for framing Tonks for his own crimes?

Did he regret asking her to stay with him? Renee furrowed her thin eyebrows into a frown as she raised herself up on one elbow, turning her concerned face to meet his.

"Sirius? What the bloody hell's wrong with…" She started to say, though quickly trailed off when she realized Black wasn't crying at all. He was…

He was _laughing_. It was the sort of happiness she was sure, at least from what little Sirius and Remus had told her one night over an alcoholic drink called Fire Whiskey and about Peter Pettigrew and spending twelve years of his life in the same prison Tonks had been sent to, that he'd had little experiences of since Sirius's release.

"Sorry," he snorted, turning back to regard her silently watching him with a furrowed look of concern. "I didn't mean to wake you," he apologized, his laughing fit slowly tapering off as he shifted at the waist to look at her. His mirth seemed to be contagious, and Renee found herself rolling her eyes through her confusion.

"What's funny?" she asked, smiling a little in her confusion and bewilderment. It was good to see him happy, considering the hell of the night they'd both had.

"I—I just realized the last thing that piece of trash ever saw in this world, was _you_ , Barreau."

Renee could only blink owlishly at Sirius, utterly confused as he leaned his head back against the pillow. Sensing her confusion, he opened one eyelid and explained.

"Seeing you get away from him a second time as a form of revenge is better than any jinx or curse I could have hit him with through his cold, dead heart," Sirius said as he pulled Renee closer, kissing her deeply.

The moment their faces parted, he gingerly removed Renee's hand from his chest as her fingertips were tracing some of the tattoos he'd been branded with during his time in Azkaban, bringing her knuckles to his lips for a gentle and chaste kiss. Her bright white smile felt as though it wiped away so many years of his misery.

For once in his life, Sirius found himself looking forward to the life ahead of him, showing Renee the wonders of the magical world, and she, in turn, teaching him what she knew of how Muggles lived. Arthur was sure to be ecstatic to have her as a regular in his life.

He almost snorted at Weasley's enthusiasm but tampered back the urge to laugh again. As he stared deep into Renee's bright crystal-blue eyes, his face grew serious. He sat up suddenly and sharply, with Renee slowly raising herself to match as she leaned against him.

"What is it?" she questioned softly into the dark bedroom, her face now solemn with concern and worry.

She searched his face with a longing, needful gaze that caused whatever he'd been about to say to die upon his tongue, though there was much he wanted to say to her, though in the end, he said the only thing he could. "I…"

He hesitated, having never said it before, at least not when she was awake, cognizant, and staring at him like this in a way that made Sirius feel uneasy. Though in the end, he shoved aside his discomfort and said it anyway, knowing that Barreau needed to hear it.

"I love you. And I promise, as soon as you're fully healed, we'll go somewhere for a few weeks. Somewhere warm."

Barreau looked like she wanted to say something back, though the moment her lips parted, Black didn't give her a chance as Sirius let out a groan, pressing his face to hers, gripping her hair tightly and pressing his face to hers, wrapping his arms around her middle. He was overcome. Overwhelmed. She was _his_.

His heart was now hers, and Sirius could not adequately express this to her through his words. Words were always Moony's strong suit, not his. She broke apart first.

"I love you too, Black. But…wherever you take me, just…don't let me fall through any more ceilings. It hurt bad enough the first time, and I have no desire to do that ever again," she murmured, a teasing lilt to her tone and a twinkle in her bright blue eyes as she smiled at him, welcoming his kiss again as his lips leaned in and met her eager ones with a passionate fervor. Just her entire being had him seeing stars.

But as he looked at Renee Elizabeth Barreau, this Muggle, he was struck by something, a feeling he couldn't quite describe that ran deeper than his love for her, this feeling that he couldn't explain, he liked it.

Truly liked it. Looking at Renee, seeing her, feeling her lips move in sync with his, gave him peace. Happiness. Feelings that, in all those years locked up in Azkaban, hadn't been available to Sirius till now.

Sirius tilted his head as he lifted himself up to look at her. _Beautiful_ , he thought. _Perfect. Mine…Just mine_.

He said it over and over again in his mind, it was the only word that was coming to his mind as he gazed deep into those crystalline pale blue irises that reminded him of the sea just before a storm. This feeling so heavily rooted within him threatened to consume him wholly.

Sirius wished he had a word for it as he leaned down and placed his mouth against hers with a passion.

For the rest of the night, Renee did not leave his bed. Despite how tired they were, the two stayed up until the late hours of the night, talking, exploring each other's bodies, learning about themselves, what they liked.

It was around the time the sun crept over the horizon that Renee finally fell asleep. Sirius couldn't sleep thought.

Instead, he held onto Renee tightly while she dreamed, his legs entangled with hers, her head nestled comfortingly against his slender chest. In the darkness, Sirius stroked Renee's hair and reflected back on the night of passion the two of them had just shared.

Though he'd had…dalliances in the past, they paled in comparison to what he had with Renee now.

Never in his lifetime did he think he would ever find himself here, with a woman he cared so deeply for. Who felt just as deeply for him. Renee Elizabeth Barreau, the little blonde Muggle woman who ran a café, had stumbled into his life quite literally by an accident.

She'd fallen through his ceiling and onto his kitchen table, and now, she was the most beautiful and best thing that had happened to Sirius in a long time.

Merlin worked in mysterious ways, but he didn't give a damn. Sirius was just grateful to be a part of her life.

It was this thought that accompanied Sirius all through the morning and eventually sleep claimed him in the end as his eyelids grew heavy, though his grip on Renee's form as she soundly slept tightened in his sleep.

He never wanted to move again if he could help it, but he knew eventually they would have to get out of bed and start the first day of their brand new lives together.

But Sirius knew it was all going to be okay, as long as he had Renee by his side, then he was whole.

Sirius and Renee lay entwined in the darkness until the late afternoon, both of them healed and complete. He reached for her the moment her eyelids fluttered open, his head clear, his determination resolute.

She met him with clarity and certainty brimming in her blue eyes.

Their lips claimed each other softly and promised a happy future. The kiss the two shared as the sun crept even higher into the sky was just the beginning of a lifetime of love and peace and happiness that followed.

* * *

"It's not enough, and no amount of you doing that stupid thing where you bat your lashes at me, T, is going to make me change my mind, Tonks. Were there another way, Dora, I'd _take_ it, but there _isn't_. I'm sorry."

Ollie's words, harsh and clipped, brought Lupin back out of his musings, feeling a figure nudge beside him and a flash of bubblegum pink filled the side of his peripherals. Lupin smiled. _Tonks_.

Though his smile was strained and did not quite meet his eyes as he was filled with a melancholic sadness for Dora as the pair of them watched Dora's best friend wave his wand and the last of their belongings fit into his simple black briefcase.

Ollie let out a haggard sigh, pinching at the bridge of his slender nose with his thumb and forefinger, and groaned as he heard another swarm of reporters clamoring outside of their window.

His head whiplashed sharply upward, and he gritted his teeth, though before the man could act on it, Tonks darted forward and closed the curtains shut, shrouding the room in darkness. Ollie noticed and shook his head sadly.

"There's no other way, Tonks," he murmured, casting a curious glance towards Norah sitting hunched over in his armchair by the fire, staring into the depths as though she couldn't hear her husband and friends' voices talking.

He gave a curt jerk of his head towards the now-covered window, his dark eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

"You saw what it's like outside. It's been this way ever since we left St. Mungo's. They're _everywhere_. I—I can't walk down the street without someone hounding me, begging me for a quote. I accidentally cursed a reporter's ear off yesterday, T, when I left the house to go get groceries! Most days, Norah doesn't leave the house at all. I—I _won't_ put my wife through this, Tonks, so don't ask me to stay. She'll be hounded now ever since Skeeter ran that disgusting article on Norah and her brother, and now we learn that old witch is writing a book on Everett? It's not going to _stop_ ," Ollie growled, his bright blue eyes darkening, almost cerulean in color as a muscle in his jaw twitched in irritation and ire.

"But..." Tonks's voice trailed off as she saw just how angry Ollie really was, as her best mate held up a hand to stop her.

" _No_ , Tonks. We're _not_ arguing about this! She needs to get away from this. She's already lost her job at the Ministry, Tonks. They...Umbridge found out that I...that we lied on her initial application and concealed the truth about her family. No one wants to be around the sister of that _monster_. _No_. I'm sorry, but we're _leaving_. There's no changing my mind, Tonks."

Ollie shook his head, as much to convince himself and his best friend and her husband that he was making the right call.

Ollie spat the last word as though it were poison that had settled on his tongue, though as he lifted his gaze to meet Dora's heartbroken and tear-filled grey irises with his own, something within his expression softened as he set down his briefcase and strode towards her, moving one of his hands to grip onto her shoulder.

"We'll be _fine_ , T. It's what's best, Tonks. Romania could be good for us both. A fresh start. Somewhere away from all of this. Somewhere in the mountains maybe, somewhere where she can see the sky. Get some fresh air. Norah's always wanted her own menagerie and I want to help her fulfill that dream. And you and Remus and my little squirt of a nephew here are always welcome to join us, just drop us an owl and let us know you're coming, you're _always_ welcome in our home, you both know that," he joked, his gaze shifting towards baby Teddy cooing happily in his father's arms.

The edges of his closely-cropped dark, rough beard twitched without any prompting, and Ollie's smile that cracked across his face as he watched the now four-week-old Teddy Lupin's hair change right in front of his eyes from turquoise to black to mirror his Uncle Ollie's.

He let out a tired sigh as he ruffled the baby's hair before casting a wary glance back towards Norah.

Ollie looked painfully over at Norah, and he could see the shadow of agony and pain dancing across her ashen face as she continued to stare numbly into the fire.

A wave of cold anger slowly overtook Ollie's hurt at what Umbridge had done to Everett.

Though the man was a monster, every bit one in the Legilimens' mind, he was still his wife's brother and had deserved a fair trial.

The fact that he was now dead, buried six feet underground in an unmarked grave by a team of Aurors who refused to disclose its location to either Ollie or Norah, out of fear the public would vandalize the spot, was infuriating, and yet another reason he was secretly glad to be leaving behind here for Romania in a second.

Norah remained unmoved.

Ollie only tore his gaze away from his wife when he heard Tonks let out a muffled noise at the back of her throat that sounded like a tiny, half-choked sob.

He swiveled his head back around to meet her gaze, not surprised to see tears forming in her eyes.

His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as Ollie quickly realized how much their moving was affecting Tonks, and they'd not even left yet.

Charlie was temporarily putting them up in his home in a spare room near the dragon sanctuary where he worked at preserving their bloodlines, studying those fantastic beasts until Ollie and Norah could find their bearings and buy their own place once they got familiar with the area.

But it was rumored Ollie already had a job lined up in a different department within the Ministry as an international liaison for the Magical Creatures Department.

It had taken him witnessing the Dementor's Kiss on Everett for him to decide he was not going to be an Auror any longer and had thrown his badge at Umbridge, screaming at the top of his lungs how he'd report her to Scrimgeour himself for what she'd done.

It had taken both Tonks and Kingsley to almost pry the man off of the shorter, stout witch, preventing Ollie from strangling the witch near half-to-death, and that was admittedly the _second_ reason they were leaving London.

"It's not _right_ , what happened to Everett, b—but think about what you're doing, Ol! You'd really _leave_? Your job at the Ministry? Your whole life here? A—and _me_ , you could really do that to _me_?" Tonks whispered, blinking back tears, though the moment the words left her mouth, something within Norah shifted.

Her words were enough to pull her out of her spell of paralysis as her head lifted with almost a painstaking slowness, and Tonks swallowed as she looked at the antagonizing hurt laced in her friend's eyes.

"No, it _wasn't_ right what Umbridge did, Tonks, but neither of us could stop her." Even at the distance in which Tonks stood from Norah, Tonks could hear the resentful, icy sting in her friend's voice, and it tore at her.

Norah's speech was stiff and forced.

Against her best efforts to remain calm, talking about the raw wound that only added another layer of salt onto the tender wound of her broken heart at her brother's fate worse than death before Tonks took pity on the man and had mercy on him, delivering the last of the worst Unforgiveable Curse straight to his chest that ended his life, it betrayed the torture and longing within her heart.

Tonks blushed, lowering her gaze, considering the pain in which Norah continued to be mostly mired.

She didn't know in this regard which would have been the better outcome here, waiting to kill the man until Norah had the opportunity to really say goodbye, or doing what she'd taken initiative to and ended his life, letting her live out the rest of her life with Ollie by her side believing that her brother had never really loved her.

"I—I didn't _mean_ to offend you, Norah," Tonks spoke up softly, heedful of her friend's wife's anger and hurt. "I'm sorry," she begged. "I _know_ how much you must be _hurting_ over this, but I don't think there was another way, Norah. A—and I know that you don't want to hear those kinds of things because he was your brother, but Everett was a lost cause. And I think you know that," Tonks pleaded, biting on her bottom lip.

A rueful sneer flitted across Norah Brennan's face that caused all three of the other adults present in the room to flinch. Tonks didn't even have to look into her best mate's eyes to know Ollie was bothered by this.

Norah rose from her chair, painfully twisting her fingers together.

"Please don't insult my intelligence, Dora," Norah answered scornfully, furrowing her brows in a frown. "My brother made his choices, but there's _always_ another way. The Ministry could have taken him into custody and interrogated him, but Umbridge didn't let that happen," she said, her quiet voice laced to the brim with contempt and utter hatred.

Tonks flinched as Norah drew closer, the blonde werewolf's jaw cut like steel, and her lips pursed stiffly in anger and a look of utter heartbreak that she almost couldn't bear to witness, yet neither could she tear her gaze away.

A startled shout from a couple of reporters from _The Daily Prophet_ momentarily tore her concentration away and towards the drawn curtains of Ollie and Norah's front windows, but not for long.

It sounded like one of them had attempted to breach the protective barriers Ollie had temporarily put up around their home and was now regretting that call.

Norah let out a pitiful little whimper that briefly reminded Tonks of the noise a wounded dog would make after it had been kicked by its master the moment she heard one of Rita Skeeter's underlings shout something truly horrible about her and Everett's relationship that caused Ollie to gnash his teeth in anger, and the fingers of his wand hand to curl in frustration.

He was about to step towards the door and deal with the trespassers to their property, though halted in his movements when his wife shot out her arm and caught him by his sweater sleeve, softly shaking her head.

Lupin, Merlin bless her husband, Dora thought, stepped out forward, his hands outstretched, imploring Tonks's friend to believe what Tonks was trying to say.

"Mrs. Brennan, the truth is…" Remus began sincerely, only to have his and Dora's cause halted by the young blonde werewolf's ire as she held up a hand to stop him.

Norah only reacted again when she felt Ollie's hands wrap around her waist, lowering his head so his chin rested on her right shoulder, a light pink blush speckling along her cheeks as her husband paused to give her a kiss on the cheek, though she swallowed past a lump in her throat and fixed Lupin and Tonks with a rather pointed glower.

"The truth is, Mr. Lupin, that my brother would have rather _died_ than to—to live with _me_. With _us_ ," Norah asserted, the pain in her heart too much to hide, as her sky-blue eyes became glossy with a layer of tears.

His options fleeing right before his eyes, Lupin quickly understood that no argument of motive he could give was going to sway Norah Brennan's to change her thoughts of what Tonks had perceived as an act of mercy.

The only path left available to him was honesty. Remus looked towards Dora, whose face was pale, the skin of her brow pulled tautly.

His wife appeared to be at a loss for words, and he was heading that way too, though he strangely felt encouraged upon hearing the sound of baby Teddy cooing in his sleep, nestled safely against his chest as the proud new father held their three-week-old infant in his arms in a vice grip.

He looked down at Ted sleeping in his embrace before looking up towards Norah and Ollie, genuine concern, and care for Tonks's friends on his scarred face.

"He loved you," was all Lupin could say to her.

Norah startled at her friend's husband's words, taken aback. She looked at the man as though he had sprouted a pair of antlers on top of his head.

" _Loved_ me?" she scoffed. In her mind, again, she replayed the memory of coming home to find their father, Elias, murdered in his chair, his own throat slit, and he'd fled.

He'd fled, leaving Norah alone to bury their father, though she'd not bothered giving him a funeral.

"If my brother _truly_ loved me, he'd not have left. He wouldn't have committed those atrocious crimes," she said, feeling her voice harden and turn emotionless.

Tonks had no idea what to say to that.

She wracked her brain for something to say, though found nothing, and was pulled from her swirling vortex of confused thoughts when Ollie's voice spoke up, softer and more subdued than she'd ever heard him speak.

"We need to _go_ , Norah, and sooner rather than later, baby," he murmured, looking away for a moment, fumbling his wand and giving it a harsh wave, and the movement caused his and Norah's last belonging in their new barren house, the briefcase that had been by his feet, to vanish, his voice cracking and wavering, almost at the exact time he heard another reporter let out a startled scream as his protective enchantments were doing their assigned job around their townhouse. "They're getting restless, sweetheart, we need to _leave_ ," he growled softly.

Norah nodded softly, casting a wary glance to her right, towards the window, where the shouts were growing louder. She flinched as something hit the window. It wouldn't be long before they'd break-in.

She turned her gaze back towards Tonks, who hadn't even been aware she was holding a breath in until she released it, exhaling softly through her nose, though Tonks was taken aback when Norah didn't give Tonks time to react, bounding forward on her heels and enveloped her friend in a brief, but an affectionate hug.

"You didn't really think Remus and I would let you without saying goodbye, did you?" Tonks whispered hoarsely, amazed she could even find her voice, blinking back tears and swallowing down past the lump in her throat.

She did not like the hollowed, blank expression in Norah's eyes as the young blonde werewolf met her gaze, though Tonks gave her head a curt shake to clear her mind, having to trust in time that she would heal and that Ollie would take care of her.

Their move to Romania would be a good thing, though Tonks couldn't quite shake the feeling that she wouldn't see either one of them again, not for a long time, maybe even a few years.

Not until things had quieted down, and the rest of the wizarding world had forgotten about the Morning Killer, whose life had ended this morning precisely at midnight.

A fitting end, that he had been killed during the time of day when he preferred to kill.

"It's your job to take care of yourself, Norah. Promise me you'll _find_ it," Tonks begged softly. "The life of someone strong enough to beat this," she said. She didn't give Norah a chance to respond as she leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Take care, my friend."

Norah nodded numbly, blinking rapidly, fighting against the onslaught of a fresh wave of bitter, salty tears.

Tonks let out a shuddering breath as she turned towards Ollie, her best friend of going on almost six years.

It had been hard for her to form a connection with another individual as a young adult, given her age and talents within the Ministry, in some ways, she had ostracized herself with her abilities, but never around him.

She'd never had to try around Brennan, it always felt _right_.

Tonks exhaled slowly through her nose, the strong grip of Lupin's hand resting on her shoulder giving her strength as the two friends stood in front of each other.

A thousand thoughts unvoiced, and neither one of them ready to say goodbye, for what would be a long time, maybe…maybe even forever.

It was Ollie who broke the silence first, saving Tonks the trouble of responding, which was a good thing, since she was very near close to tears at this point of having to say goodbye.

"T," Ollie murmured quietly after studying the floor beneath his boots too intently for a moment. He sanguinely lifted his chin and met Tonks's gaze, as glacier-cold icy blue met pale grey, both gazes in tears. "It's…it's been something else having you in my life as my best friend, T. I wouldn't trade our friendship for anything in the world," he murmured, a light little chuckle that almost turned into a half-choked sob escaping his lips as he reached up a hand to tousle his already messy tuft of short jet-black hair. "I…" His voice broke and cracked as he trailed off, not sure what to say to her.

It seemed to take him an eternity to find his voice.

"I'll _miss_ you," he murmured. "And I don't think I can ever repay you for helping me save my wife, Dora. I owe you a debt, my friend."

Ollie did not tell Tonks that for some reason, he felt that he and his wife would never come back to London.

It would be too painful for Norah, too many bad memories here she wanted to leave behind, and he wanted that for his beloved wife.

He flinched and a muscle in his jaw twitch as the group heard what sounded like another rock hit their window from the mob growing outside their home, all of the reporters clamoring for a quote and an interview from Norah, though he didn't avert his gaze from Dora.

Tonks smiled, feeling a bit confused. " _Ollie_. Don't…don't _talk_ like that. You're acting as if you'll never see me again, Ollie."

The look on her best mate's face told the Auror the Legilimens feared just that.

"I hope we do, someday, when things are quiet again," he murmured, his voice still warbling slightly as he gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "And when we _do_ meet again, I'll teach the little squirt here how to play Gobstones or wizard's chess so well that he'll beat me at every round," he joked, glancing down at the Lupins' son still sleeping in his father's arms, his hair now returned to Teddy's favorite shade of bright turquoise and chuckling.

"I'll hold you to that," Tonks warned jokingly.

"Then…this isn't goodbye," Norah spoke up in a faint voice that was almost lost over the shouting coming from outside her and Ollie's window. "We'll see you both again someday, Remus and Tonks," she said softly.

Norah looked to her husband for confirmation, who looked like he was barely able to keep it together at the seams, rapidly blinking his lids to fight against tears.

Ollie exhaled a shaking breath as he felt Norah's hand entwine itself around his arm, ready for her husband to Disapparate alongside her to meet up with Charlie at his home to greet them in Romania when the two of them arrived.

His voice was faint as he spoke.

"Until then, T. Remus. Thank you. For _everything_ ," he vowed, his voice a low murmur as he moved in for one last hug from Tonks, breaking apart and offering his hand to shake Lupin's who quickly took it, though Ollie broke apart first and paused to ruffle baby Teddy's tiny tuft of hair.

Ollie swallowed hard as he stepped back, taking Norah with him, smiling at Tonks, though still looking very much like he was fighting against a mental breakdown, blinking back tears, and swallowing hard.

Tonks smiled, though she knew it didn't reach her eyes as she offered a tiny but hopeful wave.

Ollie and Norah returned their friend's enthusiasm with soft, shy smiles and waves of their own, though they could no longer linger as somehow, a huge rock managed to penetrate the barrier of Ollie's protective enchantments, which seemed to have worn off, and sailed through the window, shattering the glass, sending fragments everywhere and almost hit Norah in the eye.

Lupin swore under his breath and didn't hesitate to Disapparate the moment baby Teddy awoke from the noise, screaming and wailing at the disruption.

Tonks lingered, just long enough to see her best friend and his wife turn on their heels and Disapparate from the middle of their living room parlor the moment the flood of angry but eager reporters broke down the door of their home and flooded through the Brennan's living room.

Tonks caught her last glimpse of her friends before the pair fully vanished from the swarm of reporters that made to surround Norah and Ollie.

She swallowed down hard and turned on the heel of her black ankle boots to Disapparate and follow in her husband's footsteps as she tried to shove aside the unpleasant thought in her mind that despite their intentions, it would perhaps be several years before she and Remus would see their friends, if ever again at all.

Tears stung and blurred the edges of her vision as she was smart enough not to look back, and as a consequence, she didn't see the swarm of reporters essentially plundering Ollie and Norah's old townhome, groping to get their fingers on anything that might have belonged to Everett's only surviving relative, for a story.

Tonks was smart enough not to look back.

* * *

Tonks shivered through gritted teeth against the biting cold, shoving her gloved hands into the pockets of her dark blue fur-trimmed coat and kicked aside a chunk of snow that was blocking the path of baby Teddy's stroller as she and Lupin strolled through the bustling streets of Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve.

It was his first Christmas and the proud parents had wanted to celebrate.

Luckily, they didn't have far to walk, they were supposed to meet the rest of the Weasley family, alongside Sirius and Renee, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a few others, at the biggest table Madame Rosmerta had to offer at the back of The Three Broomsticks that would accommodate them all.

She smiled softly to herself as she realized that this Christmas Eve, especially, Tonks felt so very blessed.

This year, she was thankful for the health of her husband and son, and for the happiness of their lives and home.

Remus had been re-appointed the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor a few days after Tonks and Remus had said farewell to Ollie and Norah, appearing on their doorstep right before supper to personally offer Lupin the post back, if he wanted it.

He had naturally accepted, considering he now had a wife and child to help support, and the pair had re-located from their cottage in Wales and into the staff quarters at Hogwarts.

Tonks had been assigned by Minister Scrimgeour as an official Auror designated to permanently protect Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, following her request for an easier assignment once she had given her report of events up to and leading to the Morning Killer's arrest and eventual death.

Now that Tonks had Teddy to think of, she didn't want to continue putting herself into precarious positions again. Not when she had so much to live for.

Once Minister Scrimgeour was made aware of what his Senior Undersecretary had done, how she had summoned a Dementor against authorization into the private maximum security ward of St. Mungo's and killing Everett without following proper protocol or procedure, he had been _furious_ , stripped Umbridge of her title, and not only had she lost her job, but he had commanded Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt to escort his former Undersecretary to Azkaban pending her own trial.

She had been convicted and sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban Prison for her crimes against humanity.

"Love? Aren't you coming inside, Dora?" Remus's quiet, reserved voice broke the young woman out of her thoughts as she'd craned her neck upwards to look at the stars in the night sky as the snow gently fell.

"Mmm?" Tonks blinked, turning her gaze to look at her husband, now standing in front of the door to the Three Broomsticks, ignoring the three severed voodoo heads' rude comments about coming inside and not standing with the damn door open to let in the snow.

Furrowing her brows into a light frown as she _swore_ she saw a flash of black dart from the corner of her eye, she turned her gaze towards the opposite side of the street, though she didn't see anyone, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of movement off to her left side.

Tonks turned back towards her husband, who was in the midst of unbuckling baby Teddy from his stroller, pulling down his knitted woolen hat over his little ears, though Tonks had to stop herself rolling her eyes at the gesture, considering they were about to go inside.

She chuckled at how much the proud father reveled in his newfound role as protector and father and moved to give Remus a swift kiss on his scarred cheek.

"You two go inside and get warm, sweetheart. I'll be right behind you, I promise. I…want to check on something first," she murmured, shooting Lupin a soft smile, hoping that it was genuine, and reached her eyes.

Remus didn't look entirely convinced.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows in worry and concern, shifting Teddy in his arms, and pulling the blankets tighter over their baby to ensure he was warm.

"Positive." She nodded, exhaling a shaking but relieved breath when Lupin pressed his lips against hers in a brief but passionate kiss and held it for a few seconds, his lips tasting of the hot chocolate Lyall had made for them when they'd stopped by Remus's house to pick up Teddy from his grandfather's, wanting to finish the last of their Christmas shopping unencumbered by also having to look after Teddy, too.

" _Go_ , before Teddy catches a cold. I'll be inside in a moment, and tell Sirius to save me a butterbeer, Rem, a—and if Rosmerta has any cherry pie left, I want a slice, Merlin, I've been waiting all _year_ for it," Tonks joked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she shivered and shrunk further into her coat for warmth.

Lupin shot her a kind smile and obliged. "Don't take too long out here, Mrs. Lupin," he teased warmly, and much to the relief of the three talking voodoo heads, finally crossed over the threshold and shut the door.

Tonks chuckled under her breath as the heads murmured under their breath a few choice words she dared not repeat and turned back around, swearing she could have seen…but surely, it was only her imagination.

The young witch turned on the heels of her boots, squinting into the darkness, feeling sure she saw a familiar shadow, a silhouette she thought she recognized.

She exhaled a shaking breath and tucked a wisp of her short pink hair back behind her ear as a gust of frigid winter wind blew her bangs off of her forehead.

"He's still treated like a _monster_ , Ol, even after all this time. The...some vandals somehow tracked down his grave the Aurors buried him in, and...well...they vandalized it," she whispered out into the now-deserted street of Hogsmeade, given the late hour it was on Christmas Eve.

Most people were inside in the warmth and comfort of their own homes. But not Tonks. Not yet.

Tonks closed her eyes, biting down on her bottom lip as she swore she could hear Ollie talking to her, hearing his rich, smooth, melodious voice inside her mind, though the man and his wife were thousands of miles away, somewhere nestled in the Carpathian mountains of Romania, far beyond her ability to travel.

_Is he really_? _I guess we shouldn't be surprised. We knew this would happen after he...after his death. Is it really that bad, still?_ Ollie's voice seemed to ask, challenging Tonks in his own way to tell him the truth right now.

Tonks smiled, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips as another gust of wind whipped through the deserted streets of Hogsmeade.

"It's true," she sighed, carding her fingers through her bubblegum pink hair. "Reporters, the—the day you left, they trashed the place, Ol. You should be glad you and Norah are miles away."

When she could not hear his voice, Tonks continued, wondering if the phantasm of her dearly beloved friend's voice in her mind was waiting for her to elaborate.

"They—they have no idea what it was like, Ol. I get hounded still, mostly by Rita Skeeter sometimes, asking for a quote since I met with Everett more than once," she murmured, a shadow of anger flitting across her features briefly. "But I won't do it, Ol. I don't _want_ to be pitied."

_Then what is it that you DO you want, T_? came Ollie's voice.

"To be left alone. To be loved. Acknowledged for who I am, what I've contributed, not what I went through at Everett's hand, and for what everyone else seems to want me to be, Ollie. I—I can't do it, Ollie."

_But you already ARE loved_ , his voice protested. _Just look at what you've made, T,_ Ollie encouraged Tonks.

Tonks slowly turned her gaze to look in the window of The Three Broomsticks as the snow continued to fall around her.

She had to squint slightly in order to see through the white flakes as they continued to fall from the sky, though she could see Remus and Teddy being happily greeted warmly by the entire Weasley family, Harry and Hermione, Sirius, and Renee.

Still. Tonks felt a painful pang well in her chest and the smile on her face slowly dissipated until her face became quite crestfallen.

_Ol, you and Norah should be here with me. It wouldn't be Christmas without you both right here…_

_Turn around, T_.

His voice was soft, quiet, and now held a slight teasing lilt to his smooth baritone.

Tonks's eyes widened as she slowly turned around, her face draining of color as she locked eyes with her best friend standing on the opposite side of the road, looking windswept and flushed, but just as handsome as the last time she had laid eyes on the man.

Ollie stepped from the shadows, stealing her breath and the heat from her skin, Norah right behind him, shooting Tonks a shy smile.

Suddenly, her defenses were just paper, paper soaked by the rapidly briny drops that were her tears.

Before she could draw in the air her lungs so desperately needed, she was bolting forward on her heels and swept up in her best friend's warm, hard, and chiseled embrace.

Tonks could feel her friend's firm torso and the heart that beat within his chest. His strong, calloused hands were folded around her back, drawing her closer.

Tonks could feel her body start to shake, crying for the missed time she knew the two would never get back, crying to release the tension of him moving so far away.

He pulled his head back and wiped away the tears with a calloused finger, though the roughness of his touch brought Tonks more relief than her heart could currently handle, which felt like it was bursting with love.

Tonks wanted to speak, but all she could do as she pulled back to embrace Norah next was, " _Stay_. Don't go. Not again. It's Christmas, come inside. _Please_. _Stay_."

Much to her chagrin, Ollie shook his head no. "I—we can't stay long, T. We have to be getting back home. It's late enough as it already is, and I don't want to keep you from enjoying the holiday with your own family. Besides," he added darkly, "I—I'm not allowed back in, but…we wanted to stop by and wish you Merry Christmas, and to tell you we've got the spare room ready for you and Remus and Teddy when you visit us in the spring. Don't get us wrong, we'd love to stay and eat with you. But if I go in there, Rosmerta will _kill_ me," he murmured sheepishly, his own face flushed in shame and embarrassment as he remembered the night he'd gotten into a brawl with Sirius.

Oh. _Damn_. Right. She'd forgotten. The _ban_. Tonks cringed, glancing back towards the window at her husband and her precious baby boy now sitting down to eat, Lupin having to scoot aside a couple of chairs to make room for Madame Rosmerta bringing along a high chair for Teddy to sit in.

"You'll be proud of your nephew, Ol," she teased, her voice cracking a little as Ollie moved and slung his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. "He accidentally broke a plate the other day during lunch that had Rem's food on it, spilled it all over his daddy's new sweater that Molly made for him for Christmas this year, and laughed about it," Tonks giggled. "He's just like his mother in that regard," Tonks teased. "Teddy's growing up to be a fine wizard in the making. I'm sure in time, once he learns magic, he'll make you proud," she joked, looking towards Norah, who smiled.

What Ollie said next as he and his wife slowly backed away from Tonks, preparing to Disapparate and head back to Romania, surprised Tonks, startling her.

_I already am. So is Norah_.

His soft voice resonated in her ears as the pair backtracked to leave them again.

Tonks froze as she had turned back around, her trembling hand on the doorway of the tavern, preparing to let herself in, though she turned back and smiled, and if she looked close enough, as her best friend and his wife stepped back into the shadows to Disapparate, she could see the faint outline of Ollie's towering slender silhouette in the shadows.

She raised a hand and waved at the pair of them, not even sure if they would see it.

They waved back, and with the familiar loud _crack_! resonating through the air, just as quickly as the pair of friends had come, they had vanished. Again.

Tonks stared at the spot where their footprints had made indentations in the snow-covered street, the only indication that Everett's sister and Ollie had been here.

She breathed out a sigh of relief as she relished in the fact that all of them were now free to live now that the man in question was dead, as much as it hurt Norah.

And now that it was the case, Tonks knew that she was going to use her newfound peace to spend every moment humanly possible with Remus and Teddy by her side.

She smiled as she went inside and closed the door behind her, basking in the warmth of the tavern and the good smells of whatever specials Rosmerta was making.

Tonks knew she'd hold onto her little family and never, ever let them go.

Because…without Lupin and Teddy by her side, she felt like she'd be lost and empty.

Much in the same way that Ollie had Norah, Lupin had given Tonks something she'd never known with another wizard before, something cherished and respected. _Love_.

And it had been love that had cleared away the darkness in their lives so that the goodness and light could shine again, lifting the heavy burden from her shoulders.

Tonks resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Sirius's boisterous laughter from the back of the room flooded her eardrums, and she shot Remus a furtive little wink as she slid into the booth in between her husband and Renee with relative ease, shooting the young blonde Muggle a kind smile as she watched Renee take her first sip of Rosmerta's freshly made butterbeer and falling in love with yet another thing the wizarding world had to offer her.

_Other than Sirius_ , she thought happily.

She was glad her cousin had found his peace. Tonks settled down next to her husband and tried to focus on the Christmas dinner, but kept finding herself marveling instead at how much her life had turned around since meeting Remus, and all that had transpired since then, and especially over the last several months.

Tonks knew she would always have to maintain a balance in her faith, as well as in the other things in life.

But in the end, at the very center of her being, Tonks knew she was content, for she felt overwhelmed with happiness from the way her life had turned out, as she looked at Remus and smiled, meeting her husband's tender, affectionate gaze.

Whenever Tonks looked into Lupin's light brown eyes, all she could see was the feeling of her heart, and then the two of them would become one.

And if _that_ wasn't magic, then she couldn't say what was.


End file.
